A Jewel Fair and Bright
by Mephistominion
Summary: A dwarf adopted and raised in the Shire is met with new challenges as everything she knows is thrown up in the air when a dwarf king and his company appear in her home, forever changing the peaceful life she has known. (No Parings Yet)
1. Chapter 1: Mizimel

They never knew where she came from. They just found her, poor thing, abandoned on the side of the road on the way back from a walking holiday. She was a beautiful baby on the edge of being a toddler with dark green eyes, thick, curly brown locks down her back and freckles splashed across her cheek. Her giggles were like bells and eyes like gems when they were open, but they knew immediately that she was not like them. She was bigger than the others her age, she was stronger, and her feet were not large and covered in hair. If that wasn't enough to tip them off that she wasn't a Hobbit, then the fine, dark hairs growing along her chin were: she was a dwarfling, no mistakin' it. And yet the Took couple couldn't leave her there, surely to die beside that road; that was the day that a dwarfling was adopted into the Shire. That was the day that Belladona Took got a surprise little sister, and she was absolutely fascinated and delighted by it.

They tried, at first, to see if she had a name. But they couldn't find one anywhere on the dwarf girl's person. After a little while, they referred to her as "dwarfling" because they simply didn't know what to call her. That was until she looked at them with a bright smile and said, "Mizimel." And that was all she said, all the time, in reply to whatever they asked or said to her.

"Mizimel."

So that's what they began to call her. Mizimel Took. And she never knew better. They would dress her nice, brush her hair, talk affectionately. The first hitch they caught was when they tried to shave off the beard that was beginning to grow on her chin and jaw. She had screamed and wailed as if they were physically harming her. At first, the Tooks just left it alone, until finally they tried again, telling her it was alright and that it was natural for women to not have beards. And she calmed down, listening to her new mama and papa with wide eyes, and every time they shaved her after that, there were no troubles. Belladona had always been a true Took, adventurous and fun loving, and took Mizimel under her wing as a little sister, still keeping in touch even when she married off to who she called Baggins. Mizimel didn't know what a Baggins was, and didn't care for him. At this point, Mizimel was around 23, and still like a child. It confused the Hobbits at how slow she was aging, but took it in stride. But there are things that no one can really prepare for. Death being one of them.

The day that her mama died, it was decided that she could not stay with the old Tooks anymore. And Mizimel, now 27, moved in with Belladona who was just about to have a baby. Mizimel had been in a deep despair at having been moved so abruptly with someone she loved so much dying, leaving her behind like everyone seemed to, but when Belladona gave birth to Bilbo something changed in Mizimel. The depression she'd been stuck in was lifted, and it seemed like her life had purpose again. She helped as much as she could in raising him, even if it wasn't much simply because she was still a young dwarf, and was a dutiful aunt.

She remained so even when sickness took her sister and brother in law, helping Bilbo through the loss as much as possible. He was only 28. Mizimel was 55, and still looked like a tween. Still, they looked after each other, him being the new owner of Bag End and her, his "Aunt Mizzie" who he welcomed to stay, even going so far as to teach her things that the Tooks hadn't like what lay beyond the Shire, and the history of Elves and Men. She was fascinated and absorbed it quickly, and the years passed reasonably by for them. She became a barmaid at the age of 70, when she was starting to look more like a woman and less of a girl, earning her keep at Bag End even if Bilbo, aged 43, insisted she didn't need to. She muttered on about honor and pride to him, and deep down he knew that it was something she'd learned from her Dwarvish side, not the Hobbit people who'd raised her.

Eight years later, Mizimel being 78 and Bilbo 51, is when things began to change, and Mizimel met one of her own kind for the very first time.

* * *

Mizimel was humming, her voice clear and as pretty as the bells her laughter was described, as she worked in the garden near the back of the smial, Bilbo smoking calmly on his bench near the front of the house. It was a pleasant morning and they'd just gotten done with second breakfast (though Mizimel didn't eat much at that meal, as her appetite was not as large as a Hobbit's), putting the both of them in a cheerful mood. She was efficient in herbs, especially. She loved the smell of them and being able to work with them soothed her. Mizimel enjoyed being close to the earth. She continued to work on the loamy soil but stopped humming when someone approached. Some Hobbits got upset when they saw her, a dwarf woman who was 4'4" which was well over the tallest Hobbit in the Shire's height, so she'd learned to stick to the shadows and be quiet when a hobbit who was not Bilbo or a Took was nearby. She didn't hear their conversation, just heard the door shut forcefully. When she got up and dusted herself off enough to be presentable, she went to see what had happened but only saw a tall man in a gray cloak, a pointy hat and carrying and a staff walking away. She went back inside Bag End with furrowed brow and frown apparent. Bilbo looked slightly startled and annoyed by something so she carefully asked, "What happened, Bilbo?"

"...nothing. Just wizards, and nasty, foolish business."

"Oh?"

"Yes, asking to share in an adventure. An adventure! Can you imagine?"

But the thought of it stirred something in her and she smiled wryly at him.

"You sent him away? A wizard? Oh Bilbo, you silly little Baggins." She laughed and ruffled his hair, smiling as he scowled and swatted her hand away. They were similar in mind, except that Mizimel, according to a book Bilbo had recently acquired in Bree at her insistence, wasn't even an adult yet, just a young adult. She had much life ahead of her.

"What would you like for dinner, hm?" She laughed at Bilbo's question.

"Bilbo! We just had a meal, and you're already thinking of the next meal?"

"Oh hush, Mizimel! You know how Hobbits work by now, stop being ridiculous."

She shook her head, her brown locks waving at the movement. She loved Bilbo, truly. She'd rarely been without him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to eat alone tonight. I have to work. Apparently one of the other barmaids is away on honeymoon."

"Oh dear, which one?"

"Never you mind, Bilbo. You're entirely too interested in the gossip. Like a true Hobbit, I say." Bilbo sniffed in offense, looking at her with a new eye.

"I never!" She smiled and kissed the top of his curly head. He was so small, compared to her. She still remembered holding him when he was first born, with his pinched, red face and curly hair already growing on his head. Such an ugly little thing, but he'd captured her heart in moments. Mizimel left to her room, getting on her basic work smock, and tying her hair into various braids and ribbons before nodding. She was ready for work. She went to the door, then

"Mizimel, are you off to work, now?"

"Yes, Bilbo." He came around from the kitchen, a spatula in hand from whatever he was cooking. It smelled like fish. Bilbo waved his spatula at her, a serious gleam in his eye.

"Be careful on your way home! Don't know what sort of people might be wandering about tonight."

He was a lovely person, but a ridiculous one. Who else would be wandering out at night, other than hobbits who she had known all her life? Mizimel smiled and nodded as she stood up.

"Yes Bilbo," she waved goodbye to him, "don't you worry." She threw on her cloak and hurried down the road, smiling pleasantly. It was a nice day, overall. An easy day, like all the rest in the Shire.

* * *

Mizimel was tired. Her feet were sore, as always after her shifts, and her arms felt tired from hoisting heavy platters around and moving heavy things around for the owner. She may not have been trained in a harsh dwarven lifestyle, but her dwarven strength had never left her and for that she felt grateful. It was confusing business, living the Hobbit life as a Dwarf, but she felt grateful for any bit of her dwarven side she could keep. She was walking up the hill when she heard loud noises of what had to be a party. She paused. At this time of night? Entirely unusual, especially for this part of the Shire. She kept walking towards her home, yawning slightly in the dark. Then she halted in front of her smial. It was her home? But that couldn't be! Bilbo would never have allowed such a thing. She hurried quickly up the steps, storming through the door. What if Bilbo were in trouble? What if someone had ransacked their house? She growled, anger flaring in her chest like never before.

They'd regret the day they decided to set foot in her home, or lay a hand against her hobbit. She barreled through the door, ready to knock some heads in as she stomped into the house. The commotion was coming from the dining room...but she had no weapons. She paused and turned to see a heavy amount of knives resting on her sister's glory box...which was _absolutely ruined by mud and scrapes._ Mizimel felt even more anger burn in her. _ They were going to die._ She snatched one of the more menacing looking knives and stormed into view of the dining room, ready to maim whoever crossed her.

"Watch out!" A foreign voice shouted, accompanied by Bilbo's gasp which she knew well. A large bowl of cream spinach, which she had prepared earlier that day so that Bilbo might enjoy some later, came sailing across the room and landed directly on her head, splattering her and masking her vision of the occupants of the room which all went silent at once. She couldn't move. All she felt was her hand trembling with rage as the food dripped down her face and onto her dress. She heard someone quickly get up.

"Mizimel! I'm so sorry." It was Bilbo, handkerchief at the ready, mopping up the sticky green stuff as he removed the bowl which obscured her view. "I had no idea we'd be having guests, Mizimel, I wasn't informed until they arrived."

"_And who are **they**_?" Bilbo made a worried sound, probably knowing just how angry she was. She blinked away some of the cream, then did her best to glare at the unwanted guests, before balking in surprise. Dwarves. They had to be. They were no Hobbits, and certainly not Men. They all peered at her in an equal amount of shock, probably not expecting a dwarf lass to be in the home of a Hobbit.

"Mizimel, I-"

"We're...pleased to meet you." An elderly dwarf had recovered from his surprise the quickest. Her dark green eyes turned to him, confused and scared. Her hand clutched the knife tightly. Who were these dwarves? Why were they here? Even more panic arose as she wondered if they were here because someone had told them about the dwarf of the Shire. "I'm Balin, son of Fundin, at your service." It seemed that he had broken the rest out of their stupor, as the rest began to shout out their names in a panic to introduce themselves.

"I'm Gloin!"

"I'm Kili, at your-"

"Bofur, at-"

"Dwalin-"

Many more names were thrown out but she could not hear it over the din of their combined voices. She flinched and backed away. Bilbo put a protective hand on her back, glaring at them as they frightened his aunt.

"Quiet!" A single booming voice silenced all of them, and her eyes were drawn to a dwarf sitting at the edge of the table. He was made out in furs and dark clothing, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Everything about him screamed imposing and regal and she felt even more panicked. Her heart was racing, her hands were clammy, her mind was racing and she couldn't comprehend anything. Wait, was she breathing?

"Mizimel!"

The room began to spin and she felt herself fall over, the world going black.

* * *

Thanks for reading! This is my first fanfiction ever written. Please leave any thoughts or suggestions in a review. I know some of the events and time has been shifted around, but I did it to help fit Mizimel in there. Please be kind! \\(o3o)/


	2. Chapter 2: One Step At a Time

When she began to come to, it was dark, and a fire crackled softly nearby. There was a dull ache across her head and she didn't want to open her eyes. She turned slightly, shuffling whatever she was laying on, and cracked her eyes open just a bit. It seemed she was in her room. She'd recognize that door any day, but it was open. She slowly sat up, brow furrowing. Was she dreaming, then? All that nonsense with the other dwarves and all the damage they'd done to her home? Mizimel swung her legs around, and stretched, reaching a hand up to scratch at her hair. She froze.

Her hair had dried bits of stuff in it. She looked down and saw that she was wearing her work dress, which had stains from…creamed spinach. She wanted to throw up, as she ran to the bathroom directly across the hall to avoid causing a mess all over her room. Not a dream, then. It was all so wrong. What business did they have that had them come to her house? It couldn't have been good, and Bilbo looked so horribly flustered. She sat on the floor, head against the tub as she stared at the wall. She should probably clean up. She was a complete mess, and even though Bilbo had been raised with her he was still a gentleman and hadn't dared touch her more than put her back in her room…which he couldn't have done by himself. She shuddered, and began to fill the tub with hot water so she could – at the very least – wash her hair.

The water felt divine. It soothed her muscles and it felt good to wash all the dried, disgusting gunk out of her hair. It took a long time, but she managed to comb and pick all of it out, and then began the tedious task of washing all of it. Mizimel had a great amount of hair, especially compared to the curly haired hobbits, but she didn't mind. She was proud of it. Dark brown, and simple in its waves, but it was thick and strong, healthy hair. It felt right to have it that way.

She exited the tub, squeezing the water from her hair as best she could, before selecting a towel, a night gown, and a robe from the cupboard near the sink. She was glad Bilbo had filled it while she was gone, because it had been empty before she had left for work earlier. She dried herself quickly, donning the night gown and the robe, before brushing her hair. She looked in the mirror, and her brow furrowed. She had strong features. Thick brown brows set over dark green eyes and wide cheek bones, full lips and a nose that seemed like a tower in comparison to the button noses that hobbits it. But…she remembered the dwarves from before, and their noses were a lot larger than hers. Was hers normal, then? She scrunched her eyes together.

It hurt her head to think. At least they were gone. She let her hair hang down undone as she left the bathroom, stalking quietly to the kitchen. She hadn't eaten during or after work, thinking that supper would be ready for her when she got home (Bilbo had the habit of leaving some for her even if he was deep asleep by the time she got back from her job), but instead was mobbed by a hoard of dwarves.

_Are you not one yourself?_

She sighed and went to the pantry…it was completely, utterly empty. She grunted, finding herself extremely annoyed as she had to go to the second, and then the _third _pantry because even the second pantry had been raided. How rude. She got out some supplies for a soup, and then, looking outside, saw that the sun was about to rise. She groaned. She'd been asleep for that long? Well, Bilbo would like his breakfast nice and hot when he woke up. She'd better get supplies for it. She got a large slab of ham out, and some bacon. Mizimel pursed her lips. Some scones and potatoes would go nicely with the meat, and perhaps some fruit as well. She'd make him a nice, big breakfast after that fiasco the night before. She set to work slicing the ham and the bacon, then setting up the scones and dicing up the potatoes and throwing some herbs in to flavor them. She went to her garden, and picked some fresh cherry-tomatoes before stalking back inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. Mizimel had learned to cook from her mother, and then her sister. And she would occasionally help the cook at the tavern where she worked. She considered herself quite good, as it seemed to satisfy even Bilbo's selective palette.

Mizimel set the scones in the oven, humming softly as she began to slice up some fruits for the morning meal. It was peaceful. The sun was not yet up, the world was just beginning to wake up. She felt refreshed and clean, and very, very glad that no more dwarves would be around to bother her or her nephew. She was just setting the fruits aside, and putting the meat on the griddle when she heard someone walk into the kitchen.

"Good morning, B-"

"Oh!" The voice was familiar, but wasn't at the same time. She jumped in surprise, eyes wide and heart racing as she whirled around to see who had spoken. A young dwarf was staring at her in shock, mouth open slightly as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had blond hair, and blue eyes. A handsome face with a strong nose…and that was when she realized that she was in nothing but a night gown and a robe. She blushed hard, as did he, and he averted his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I did not know-"

"My apologies! I did not know you were…"

"Here." They finished at the same time, and she felt her face burning profusely. How indecent! How embarrassing! She mumbled a hurried excuse and practically ran from the kitchen to her room. The dwarf didn't try to stop her, probably relieved that she left. As soon as she shut her bedroom door, she basically collapsed to the ground. Oh, was there no end to her torment? She felt like crying. So much had happened and she didn't know where to start putting everything back together…

_Some clothes might help, Miz. _ Her sister's voice hummed merrily in her mind, and she sighed. She was always the voice of reason in her life, even when she was gone. She went to her closet, only to stop and think again. What was considered decent to them? What was not? She remembered the dark haired dwarf from the night before, and the blond one from a few minutes ago, and her cheeks reddened. Should she dress in one of her nicer gowns? She shook her head; that was ridiculous. She donned a simple, but flattering, purple and green dress, then fled back to the kitchen. Her food must be burning! Dash what that dwarf must think, she had food she needed to prepare!

To her surprise, her food was not - in fact - burning and was instead being made by a…rather rotund dwarf with bright orange hair, and an impressive beard that was woven into one large braid that looped around like a rope. She found it fascinating, stopping to stare for a bit, before she shook herself and timidly walked into the kitchen.

"T…thank you." She said, just loudly enough to be heard. The large dwarf seemed to jump a bit in surprise, before he turned to look at her. He gave her a genuine grin, and bobbed a short bow to her.

"The pleasure is mine, miss. I'm Bombur, at your service." His voice was soft but pleasant, but he seemed to only be comfortable with these words as he turned back around and flipped a few more pieces of bacon. She walked over to him, tilting her head.

"I'm Mizimel Took." She gave a small curtsey. "At you and yours." He gave her another smile, his wide cheeks flushing a bit. Although they were perpetually flushed so she couldn't tell if it was because of her or not. She didn't say much to him as she went to the oven and peeped inside to see if the scones were ready. Almost. But now she wasn't sure if she had made enough. The dwarves obviously hadn't left yet, much to her chagrin, but that meant she had to feed them.

"There's enough." Bombur seemed to read what she was worrying about. "I cut the rest of the ham and bacon, if you don't mind."

"Not at all!" And she found that she meant it. It was hard to stay mad at such a polite and kind dwarf. She found she quite liked him. "I'm glad you did. I thought that I wasn't making enough. It would be terribly rude of me, as a hostess, if I didn't feed my guests until they were content."

"We were quite content last night, Miss Mizimel."

"Please, just Mizimel." She fell silent again, moving to chop up more potatoes and throwing in more spices once she'd chopped up what she felt might be enough.

"Good morning, my lady." That deep voice again. She looked up, alarmed. The dark haired dwarf from last night, the one with the icy blue eyes, stood at the doorway of the kitchen. He looked as regal and intimidating as last night. She gave him a curtsey.

"Good morning." She blushed slightly and turned her eyes down. Those eyes were indeed very hard to meet. "Breakfast should be ready shortly. I'm sorry, I did not know you were still here. I would've had breakfast ready sooner."

"We are very grateful you made it at all, after last night. I am sorry for scaring you, my lady."

"Pray, call me Mizimel." She fidgeted slightly at her skirts, brow furrowed. Was that appropriate to say, to dwarves? She didn't know. He was obviously in charge, too, so was it alright if she requested to be called by her first name?

"Very well." His reply was short, and he nodded to her, before turning to leave. He seemed to pause, however, and turned back around. She straightened her back and looked up again. He seemed to be examining her, as if he didn't quite believe was he was seeing. She knew she was an odd sight, a tall dwarf woman in hobbit garb…not that she felt very tall as this dwarf towered over her. "I am Thorin Oakenshield." There was no 'at your service,' but she got the feeling that was alright. She nodded to him.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Mizimel Took." He then left, and she whirled back around to finish cooking her potatoes, face burning. She was a clumsy lout, she knew it. And awkward besides. She just had to be in these dwarves' minds. Mizimel bit her lip against the burning in her eyes, forcing herself not to cry. She'd always dreamed of meeting other dwarves, other people like her. This was not as she imagined it. Not how she imagined it at all.

* * *

She was introduced to the rest of the dwarves as she laid out the dishes before them on the table. A heaping pile of cooked ham, bacon, steaming potatoes and a mound of fresh scones with jam and whatever else they felt like putting on them, accompanied with bowls of fresh fruit. She curtsied to them, tucking some hair behind her ear as she managed a shy smile at them.

"Good morning, sirs. I'm Mizimel Took," she nodded, "at your service."

Thorin nodded at them, and they seemed to take the cue to not just lob their names at her, as they went slowly around the table, one by one.

"Ori." He was timid, with a wool scarf and mittens.

"Dori." His brother, maybe? He had silver hair that was braided in an impressive style.

"Nori." A star! She smiled at him, knowing she'd remember his name, if only because of his hair.

"Oin!" He was obviously deaf, with the trumpet in his ear and the loud voice almost screaming.

"Gloin." What a _beard_. It was astoundingly thick and red. She had to try hard not to stare.

"I'm Bofur!" He had a cheerful face and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Bombur."

A dwarf with an axe in his head practically growled out what had to be his name, but she couldn't understand him. They didn't seem to notice, however, and continued on.

"Balin." The old dwarf from before, the one who had introduced himself when she was angry.

"Dwalin." He was also intimidating, but in a different way from Thorin. Dwalin seemed…deadly, because you could take one look at him and know he'd maim you if it came to it. But Thorin was…important, and you knew you could not cross him.

"Kili." Another handsome face, with dark hair and nothing more than a stubble across his cheeks. He was young, probably around her age. Mizimel glanced at the next dwarf and had to try hard not to blush as red as the tomatoes which she had set down next to the meat. It was the blond dwarf from earlier that morning, who had seen in her such a frightful state. He gave her a wry smile, his own cheeks taking on a pinkish hue.

"Fili."

"Thorin."

She knew it wasn't likely that she'd remember all of their names. After all, there were so many of them and she still wasn't so comfortable with them yet. She told them to eat as much as they wanted, before stalking back into the kitchen to catch her breath. So many names, so many faces, she shut her eyes and took deep breaths. It was disorienting, to be sure. And Bilbo wasn't here to talk her down…or to stay with the dwarves while they ate. She bit her lip. She'd have to go and eat with them. It was only polite, as she was the hostess and cook. Mizimel took up as much courage as possible, taking a deep breath and reminding herself that she was a Took, daughter of Gerontius Took, sister to the great Belladonna Took, and aunt to the respectable Bilbo Baggins. She could do this. She took a deep breath, before she put on a smile and walked back into the dining room.

_One foot in front of the other, one step at a time_. Belladonna's voice chimed in her head again, and Mizimel nodded. She could do this.

* * *

**Hello! Sorry, this is a bit of filler, as you could probably tell. I'll get to the good stuff, such as Mizimel's explanation of her upbringing and such, next time. I promise! As for updates, I'll do it when I'm able, but it should be about once a week. Usually on the weekends as I'm a student and have _many _assignments and such. Thanks again so much for reading! And leave a review if you've got any advice for me. **

**Shout out to those who followed, favorited, or reviewed! MissKim2b, alexma, readergirl4985, miss-beauty-world, and Rileykinsx. You guys rock. It means so much. I will probably not post again within the next few days (I've got a busy schedule), but I promise to update as soon as possible! :] Mephistominion, over and out.**


	3. Chapter 3: Focus

"Miss Mizimel-"

"Please, just Mizimel." The dwarf with the fluffy eared hat smiled at her, and she gave a shy smile in return. The dwarves were well into their meal, stuffing themselves for the road ahead. But then Bofur had addressed her, and the dwarves were looking at the both of them expectantly.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, how did you end up in the Shire?"

She froze, her hands clenching her dress, her eyes wide. Gandalf seemed interested to hear this, too, as he had never seen her before, which, if she was calling herself Mizimel "Took," was highly unusual. He knew of most if not all of the inhabitants of the Shire. Mizimel felt her face flush and she looked down. She could not tell them. To be abandoned on the side of the road like nothing more than trash...she bit her lip. It was shameful, and it hurt her to think about it. She hadn't had to think about it for a long while and she looked back up, knowing her eyes were watery because they stung like poison ivy against her skin.

"I...if you don't mind, terribly...I'd like to not talk about it." She said softly, face flushing red as the dwarves seemed taken aback by her answer. But a single word, again in the language she couldn't understand, from Thorin silenced them. Bofur looked appropriately chagrined, bowing his head to her.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Mizimel." He was genuinely apologetic. Even if he hadn't been, she didn't think she could be mad at him. She'd be curious as well, finding something like her in such a place like this. Surrounded by hobbits, indeed.

"It's not a problem, Mr. Bofur." She replied, turning her eyes down to her plate again, willing herself to pick up her fork and eat even if her stomach was twisting and turning inside her. She heard a soft sigh, before Bofur replied, "Just Bofur, please." She didn't look up, but smiled knowing that he was doing the same. She was glad they weren't mad at her, though she knew they'd be even more curious. Her ears caught slight footsteps down the hall, and looked up to find Bilbo standing in the door frame, hair tousled and eyebrows drawn downwards.

"Mr. Oakenshield, if you don't mind, I'd like a word after breakfast." Mizimel had never heard Bilbo sound so solemn...almost resigned, if you would. Thorin looked up at him and nodded to him once. Bilbo sniffed and nodded back before making his way over and sitting beside Mizimel. She handed him a plate which she had already loaded with bacon and tomatoes, which she knew was his favorite. He thanked her and nodded when all the dwarves greeted him. The mood picked up again not long after, and soon the food was put almost completely away. Thorin stood up and made his way toward Bilbo's study down the hall, which would be more private for their talk. But before he made it very far, Bilbo turned to Mizimel and said, "Mizimel, come with us, please."

All of the dwarves looked surprised, but didn't have time to react before Mizimel and Bilbo left the room to Bilbo's study. Once the door was closed, Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest and put on his best stern face. It almost made Mizimel laugh, but she knew she shouldn't, so she kept quiet.

"Master Oakenshield, I have thought long and hard about your offer to join your company."

Mizimel stared at Bilbo in shock, unable to keep her mouth closed as she gaped at him. Join him? Where? What was the offer? She then looked at Thorin quizzically, brow furrowed. Thorin looked shocked as well, as though he hadn't thought Bilbo would consider...whatever it was he'd offered.

"And I have decided to come, however..." Bilbo pointed to Mizimel. "She'd have to come along with me."

Thorin's expression turned angry in less than a second, scowling furiously as he crossed his arms over his chest as well. Mizimel shrunk back, shocked at the entirety of what was happening. She didn't even know what was going on. Bilbo, however, was as steely as she'd ever seen him, and he did not shrink away from Thorin. Though it was a miracle because Mizimel felt as though Thorin was going to kill him just with his stare.

"Absolutely not!" Thorin hissed. "I cannot bring her with us, she can be of no use to us."

"I think you're completely wrong." Bilbo said simply. "She can cook, she can clean, she's a prodigious sewer, and I think you'll find that she is stronger than most of the male hobbits put together. And, forgive me for saying, but it's high time she learned about her own people."

This made Thorin pause, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"She needs to learn?"

Mizimel was about to beg Bilbo not to continue, shame making her face flush and her eyes fill with tears. She did not want them to think less of her, because her parents had abandoned her. She hadn't been bad, she didn't want the dwarves – her people – to think of her in such a way. Nothing more than an abandoned little babe.

"Sir, I'm sure you have noticed, but Mizimel does not act like a dwarf woman-"

"Bilbo!"

Bilbo continued on, "You see, my grandfather was the Thane of the Shire, what you would consider a master or lord over the Shire. He was known as the Old Took. He and his wife were on their way home from a walking holiday, being adventurous even in his aging years. Something stopped them, however, when they heard a noise in the bushes. When the Old Took approached the bushes, he found a young baby, abandoned by her parents on the edge of the Shire."

Thorin's eyes widened as he understood, and he looked at Mizimel with new eyes. She knew she was crying now, as she ducked her head and seemed to shrink against the wall.

"That baby was Mizimel. They raised her as their own, and when they died, she moved into Bag End, with my mother and my father and me. She knows nothing about dwarves except that they age slowly." Bilbo felt that this was enough to say, and it was. There was a heavy silence as Thorin looked between Bilbo and Mizimel. It was as though he didn't know what to say, taking in this information in stunned silence. Mizimel felt like dirt. She felt like the lowest of the low, she just had to be. Abandoned. How pathetic. She was biting her lip so hard it was in danger of bleeding, tears flowing unbidden down her bright red cheeks. Thorin had to say something soon, she felt ready to explode. She heard Thorin begin to walk toward her, and she tensed, expecting some harsh words or to brush past her as though she didn't exist. Instead, he went to her and reached his hand out so she would look up to him. His eyes looked saddened, just slightly, and he was frowning.

"My lady, you can accompany us if you wish. We would be glad to have you...and teach you."

Bilbo looked what could only be called triumphant, and Mizimel was blushing even harder as she looked into Thorin's eyes. He had been moved by Bilbo's story, which she hadn't expected. She thought he was like a mountain itself, strong and steely and stubborn as rock. She asked what first popped into her head.

"I...I won't be a bother?"

"We will teach you what we can."

It wasn't the response she was looking for, but she had to be realistic. Mizimel's brow furrowed, before she gave a single nod. Thorin bowed to her slightly.

"We will allow you to prepare to leave before we depart."

Thorin left the room then, regal and graceful as a dwarf could be as he passed from their sight. Mizimel practically collapsed to the ground, her nerves getting the best of her as she looked up at Bilbo.

"Bilbo...where are we going?"

Bilbo gave a hollow, disbelieving laugh.

–

The pony was itchy. The fur made her nose tingle with both the smell and sensation of it. She knew she was holding the reigns too tightly, her posture was too stiff, she could feel it in her hindquarters which she couldn't quite feel anymore. It had been a very long time since she had ridden a pony. She had ridden one once a long time ago, when Old Took had decided she needed to learn. But she had been kicked off after her third lesson and a tear-filled face had convinced him to quit the lessons. At least she had more experience than Bilbo, who was even worse than she was at riding. That was enough to appease her...for now.

The dwarves were still abuzz about her presence, having just set out from the Shire. It had taken a couple hours to get her some supplies and put all of the Bag End affairs in order (after all, they had to make sure that their home would not get taken while they were away, Bilbo and Mizimel). Kili and Fili were especially excited, riding beside her as soon they had set out, throwing questions at her which they thought she'd be comfortable enough to answer. Well, Kili had, anyhow.

"Mizimel," Kili started again, and she smiled wryly at him, "how old are you?"

"Well...I don't know, really."

"You what?" Her response had caught the attention of another dwarf right behind him, the bald head and the tattoos, and quite frankly scared her to no end. He was so intimidating. She flushed (a common occurrence, you'll find) and shrugged a bit.

"I don't know. I must be around 70, by now. I'm not sure when I was born..."

"Surely your parents must've told you." The star haired dwarf said, a couple horses ahead. His name was Nori, she remembered. She blushed and frowned at them, shaking her head. Thorin called out to be more quiet, and they were silent for a little while. But Kili couldn't seem to be able to sit still with what she had said. He reached out nudged her leg. She started at the contact and looked up at him with a question gaze. He smiled to appease her and she smiled back. Some of the dwarves looked at them, ready for her to answer the questions they'd posed.

"Honestly, how can you not know when you were born?" Nori asked her quietly.

Her smile fell, and she turned away. Were dwarves normally this insensitive? No, she couldn't say that about them. She didn't know them, and they didn't know her well enough to know not to ask questions like that. Her sister had always taught her to be open-minded, and kind, even when people weren't kind to her. But still, she could not tell them. Not yet. She looked at him again, an apologetic smile on her face, "I'd rather not discuss it, please. I'm around 70 or 80, and that's all I know." Kili nodded to her and turned away, sitting to think about what she had said as they rode. They were well on their way to the edge of the Shire, and she felt her heart race a little. This was it, she couldn't believe it.

She was on an adventure. An actual adventure, with her own people and Bilbo at her side. She never dreamed of this happened, and was still half convinced that she _was _just dreaming it all up. She, Mizimel Took, was on an adventure...and as she glanced around at her fellow dwarves, she felt herself smile and blush with pride. It felt right to be among them, even if they were still foreign, she felt like she finally fit the shoes that she had, like she was normal. And she loved it.

"We'll set camp up here." Thorin called as the sun hung low on the horizon. They still had not quite passed out of the boundaries of the Shire, though Mizimel had never been this far out from Hobbiton. She was a bit antsy as she looked around at the foreign trees and surroundings. What lurked in those trees? There could be anything, after all there was no one this far out and there could be anything just waiting to chomp their teeth into her. She felt scared, but she felt a bit of defensiveness rise up in her. She could hold if she had to, and she was absolutely certain one of her fellow dwarves would help her as much as possible. There was a cough to her left and she glanced down to find Fili, Kili's older, blonde brother, offering her a hand to help her off her pony. She laughed nervously, remembering that she was still new to this and that her pony was the one with the supplies on it, including the food. She took the hand and careful lifted herself off the beast. And she stumbled as soon as she set both feet on the ground.

"Whoa there!" It was only a miracle that Fili had been there to help her, because if he hadn't been she would've landed face first in the dirt, with both a sore rump and a sore face, covered in dust. She stammered apologies out to him, and he smiled wryly at her telling her it was no problem before she ran off toward Bombur. He wouldn't talk much. They'd cook dinner and that would be the end of it. That way she could forget how clumsy she was for a little while, and get her mind off her embarrassing fall in front of the young dwarf prince...though he was older than her, and quite handsome. She slapped her cheeks, which she knew were turning frightfully red.

"Focus, Mizimel, focus." And so she did, and a marvelous stew was made that night because of it.

* * *

**Oh my god! I am so, so sorry for the delay. Let me just tell you that life has hit me with the force of an entire train and I'm still reeling. Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors I may have made, I don't have someone to help me edit it. I'm just all by my lonesome. :P A shout out to those who followed or favorited my story! The list is as follows: Transformers' BABY, Gilded Dragon, xoulblade, NearlyHeadlessCrane, and kitsune-miko-witch.**

**If you followed and I did not mention you I am SO sorry, please send me a PM and I will be sure to get you listed! Thanks again guys!**

**Mephistminion, over and out.**


	4. Chapter 4: A Good Omen

"Bilbo..." It was quiet, and dark all around them. Night had fallen. They'd already had dinner and most if not all of the company were in deep sleep, aside from the first night watcher, who Mizimel believed was Dwalin. The day had been rough, filled with nothing but heavy rains and bad tempers. The rain had only let up slightly, and the only reason anyone could sleep was because they'd managed to find a small outcrop which they somehow huddled underneath. Mizimel was absolutely miserable, more than she'd ever felt before. Bilbo was shivering next to her, bundled up and practically lying on top of her for warmth. Normally, he wouldn't do such a thing, but it had been a hard day for them, and he wanted to be close to his family.

"Yes?" He asked, almost silent. They didn't need to be loud, even with the loud snoring which resonated around them. They could hear each other just fine. She drew him closer and shivered as a cold wind blew over them. There were grunts of annoyance and chill from the company.

"I miss home." She was essentially silent, but Bilbo gave a soft sound and she felt wetness fall across her cheeks, and she knew he felt the same. She gently wiped at his tears, and murmured a soft song to him to try and make him fall to sleep. It took some time, but he finally dozed off, and she followed soon after.

Close by, Thorin shifted in his bedroll, staring at the darkened ceiling.

_Home..._

* * *

More rain, the few days after. Mizimel felt darker and sadder than she could remember being, except in the months after her mother had died, and when her sister and brother-in-law had died. She didn't talk to anyone, not even Bilbo. She made the meals in heavy silence, as best she could without a fire to keep them warm as the surrounding wood was all too wet to spark. Even Bofur was having a hard time keeping up the cheer in the company as the rain dampened everyone's mood to the point where, if he did make a joke or try to cheer them up, they'd snap at him to be quiet and keep to himself. Mizimel felt horribly bad for Bofur. It wasn't fair to him to get so mad at him all the time. So she'd slip him a smile whenever she served him food, and watch as he gave a watered down one in response. It seemed distinctly wrong to see such a cheerful dwarf in such low spirits.

Finally, finally, the rain let up, slowly turning from a downpour into a drizzle, and into a drizzle to a light sprinkling. When the rain ended and the clouds parted to allow the sun to beam down on them and warm their cold, soaked limbs, the dwarves all but let out roars of approval.

"Oh, this warrants a song!" Bofur hollered.

"Sing for us, Bofur, please. I enjoy your voice so." Mizim said warmly. Bofur looked back at her to see a brilliant smile that all the dwarves hadn't seen in the better part of a week. Pink tinged his cheeks and he nodded.

"Happily, my lady."

Bilbo eyed him warily, catching a hint of...something in the hatted dwarf's voice. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but there was something in the dwarf's voice that reminded him of young Hobbits during their courtship. He sighed quietly as Bofur began to sing a jaunty tune that helped to lift their fellows' spirits even more. Even Thorin allowed himself a ghost of a smile to grace his face.

"Ah, a good turn of events. A good omen." Gandalf said softly, keeping his eyes on the road and smiling as he listened to the dwarves cheer. Mizimel heard him, and couldn't help but agree.

* * *

When they set camp up that evening, Mizimel went to the pony with the food supplies -she was proud to report that she could get off a pony without assistance- she was surprised to find Thorin waiting by the pony, arms folded across his broad chest. When he saw her, he managed to soften his usual scowl and nodded to her.

"Miss Mizimel. If I may speak to you for a moment."

"Of course." She bobbed her head.

"I allowed you to come along with us because I felt grieved that you did not know of your own people. The one thing dwarves carry with us, no matter our circumstance or standing, is that we are proud to be dwarves and we guard our way of life jealously. Many a culture has come and died away, but not ours. We are steadfast like the mountains we build our homes in."

Mizimel took this information in like a sponge, her dark green eyes wide with curiosity glinting brightly in them. Thorin was not one who would normally note such a thing, but he could not help but notice her beauty. Even with hair which stubbornly refused to stay inside the braids she'd plaited them into due to the rain, and still damp clothing with some mud splashed up her boots and legs. There was even a tiny splatter of mud upon her cheek, but still she was beautiful...though her lack of beard left something to be desired. He cleared his throat and glanced away, looking at the other members of his company.

"One of the main ways we protect us and ours, as well as our secrets, is through fighting. Every dwarrow knows the basics of fighting, from when they are young. Some, well, most, often choose not to keep fighting and choose a craft to master instead. Whether it be weaving, or politics, or even mining, they do no pursue fighting. But, back to my original point. I know you are not overly familiar with weapons, but on a quest such as this we must remedy that."

Mizimel took a second to comprehend, but when she did she blushed and looked down. She wasn't a fighter; well, at least, she wasn't trained to be. She had been taught the basics in handling a knife from her sister, who had definitely had some training in fighting while she had been traveling about like a true Took.

"I...learned basic knife handling from my sister." She admitted. "But I agree that I should learn to defend myself. I don't want to be a burden, Master Oakenshield."

"Please, call me Thorin."

She blushed and smiled, nodding at him. She was hoping that they would teach her more, because she wanted to know more about her people. The ones who'd left her behind. She had a feeling that she would never learn about what happened to her parents, but she was learning more and more that it was alright. If she could learn about these dwarves, she didn't need to know her parents. She was content with the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

"And, Miss Mizimel-"

"Mizimel." She said with surprising firmness, which made even Thorin pause. He nodded.

"Mizimel, you've not been a burden to us thus far. Your ways with the little we allow you to cook with has been a blessing to us, surely. We will simply show you the way we fight the dwarven way. Dwalin has agreed to oversee your training every night, from here on out...that is, if you're not too tired-"

"No!" She didn't want to seem weak to them, though she already knew they thought that of her. She would show them what she was made of. She was a Took, and she wouldn't be underestimated. "No, I'm not too tired. I'm up for it." Thorin responded by motioning toward where the rest of camp was being set up. Dwalin was helping with some firewood, two massive axes placed on his back. She stilled at the sight of them. She'd noticed the impressive weapons before, of course, but now know that he might wield them against her even in mock fighting made her knees slightly unstable.

"Do not worry. He trained both of my nephews, he is an excellent teacher. But he will not take into account that you are female, so do your best." Thorin tried to reassure her.

"It shouldn't be taken into account anyway." Mizimel muttered, feeling apprehension well up inside her even more. "When will I begin my training?"

"Once Dwalin is done collecting firewood, you two will begin. Good luck, lady." Thorin walked away from her then. She helped Bombur bring some supplies out for dinner before telling him that he would be on his own tonight as she had weapons training. Bombur smiled warmly at her.

"You'll do great, lass, I know it. And don't you worry, Dwalin won't bring his axes out on you." Bombur had an eerie way of knowing what she was thinking or feeling. She smiled gratefully at him and that was when Dwalin appeared by the fresh fire, bearing a thick armful of wood for burning. His bald head glinted in the light, and his tattoos seemed even more vivid as he dropped the load of firewood and nodded to her.

"Come along, lass."

She scrambled to follow as he walked away from the fire and close to the edge of camp where there was a large space for them to practice. He was a dwarf of few words, but his harsh gaze was enough to convey that he was going to be a hard teacher. Though, if his muscles and the way he handled his weapons were any suggestion, he would be worth listening to in terms of fighting.

"Have you had any previous training?"

"I, um..." She was very nervous around him, she wasn't going to lie or act like she wasn't. Though, maybe she should act like she wasn't. Would that impress the hulking dwarf more? She cleared her throat -she knew she was going to do that a lot in the next while- and continued with her thought. "My sister taught me how to use a knife...in case I was ever attacked on the road. I think that she thought I might have tried wandering out of the Shire at some point."

"You did." Dwalin told her, and she smiled at him. He was rough, and she was still intimidated by him, but that was an amusing response. "Did you train in anything else?" At this question, she shook her head. Unfortunately, she hadn't even been interested. It was now a big disappointment that she hadn't learned more from her adventurous sister before she died more than ever before.

"That's fine. Let me see your knife skills. Fili!"

Fili stepped forward and pulled a dazzling amount of knives from his person, handing them to Mizimel who smiled at him in thanks before she plopped them down in a neat line at her feet. She gripped the knife and allowed her sister's lessons to wash over her. She needed a steady base, but more importantly she needed a steady hand. After no more than a second's hesitation, she hurled the knife at a nearby tree and watched with satisfaction as it buried itself completely within the trunk.

"You've got good strength." Dwalin muttered. "Unusually good strength. Try again, lass."

Mizimel threw three more knives at different trees and got the same result, much to her relief. If she had missed, she would have probably cracked under Dwalin's consistently hard stare, and likely would have started to cry or even faint. Dwalin seemed to be thinking hard, before he motioned for Bofur to hand him his mattock and then threw it at Mizimel. With a yelp, she caught the weapon and held it in her hands.

"What was that for?"

"Your strength, lass. I never noticed until now. How strong are you?"

"Well," she huffed at him, some of her inhibition gone after having a massive mattock thrown at her, "I've never measured it! I'm the strongest in the Shire and that's how it's always been. I never needed to know exactly how strong I was."

Dwalin was thinking seriously hard, now, and Bofur was grinning at her, though she didn't know why.

"Dori, Mizimel, come with me."

The silver haired dwarf, one she had never talked to much as he was always around his two younger brothers Nori and Ori, stood up and followed Dwalin as he walked into the nearby forests. Mizimel made to follow them. They walked in silence, not even Dori questioning where they were going, and Mizimel couldn't help but fidget and worry. She'd been living with Bilbo too long, because she hadn't always been like this.

"There." Dwalin's rough brogue snapped her from her reverie as she glanced to see a large log of what had to have been a fallen tree, at some point. It was old and there were plants growing on the aged bark. She walked over to it and put a hand on it, before looking back at Dwalin questioningly.

"What do you want us to do with it?" She asked.

"I'm going to see how far you can lift or carry it."

Her eyes practically bugged out of her head as she let an incredulous, "What?" Dori chuckled at her response and shrugged off his coat. He rolled up his shirt sleeves then went to the log, and Mizimel backed away from it as the burly dwarf got a hold of it, and then, with a might heave and a shout, the log was lifted, and he began to move it. Mizimel nearly fainted at the sight of the strength he was exhibiting. Dwalin wanted her to try and move _that_, of all things?

"Dori is the strongest of the entire company, phsyically." Dwalin muttered to her as Dori dropped the log and righted himself, a proud smile gracing his face. There was a flush of exertion on his cheeks but not a hair was out of place on his head. Mizimel wouldn't doubt that he was, and now it was her turn to try and move the log. She didn't notice that some of the company had followed to watch the display, and were now keeping quiet as she moved to move the log as well. She bent into a squat -because a previous attempt many years ago to lift a barrel with just her back and not her legs had nearly put her out of commission- and found a good hand hold. She took some deep breaths, trying her hardest not to cry at the thought of having to lift a bloody log from its place, before she finally began to lift.

Her muscles ached, her breaths were coming out in short puffs and she was trying to ignore the wobbling in her leg that had started as soon as she lifted it above her hip.

"Go on, lass!" Dwalin ordered and she began to slowly pull it with her, taking it step by step, ignoring anything else that was going on. All she was focusing on was not tripping and getting crushed underneath the damned thing. Her muscles were screaming, her lungs were begging for a good heaping of air, and with one last heave, she actually threw the thing away from her before she stumbled back onto her behind. The log landed with a resounding crash and she sat on the forest floor, breathing heavily and arms and legs feeling like nothing more than jelly. That had been torture. These damned dwarves were trying to kill her, she just knew it. She glanced to the side, glaring at the heavy assed log she'd been forced to drag.

"Damn." She hissed, noticing that she had not dragged it as far as she thought she had. But Dwalin had a grin on his face and Dori was cheering for her. "W-why are you," she took a deep breath, "cheering?" She felt like she had been kicked by a horse and she was so embarrassed she was actually swearing (working in a tavern helped you pick up a few colorful curses, that's for certain).

"Because that's nothing to sneeze at, Mizimel!" Dori explained, smiling widely at her. "You've got to be the strongest dwarrowdam I've seen, aside from my own mother."

It took her a moment to comprehend what he had said, but when she did she nearly fainted. Pride swelled up inside her along with disbelief, and she couldn't help the ear splitting grin that bloomed on her face. Dwalin looked impressed and now very interested. She hoped this was a good thing, and that he'd be more inclined to teach her now that she apparently had a strength unusual even to dwarves.

"Come on, lass, that's enough for today." Dwalin helped her up and she turned to find Fili, Kili, Bilbo, Ori, and Bofur watching her. They all cheered as soon as she saw them and she couldn't help the fierce blush that stained her cheeks, and ducked her head so that none could see the blush and the smile which threatened to bloom. A good omen, Gandalf had said once the rain had stopped; Mizimel couldn't agree more.

* * *

_**I feel absolutely awful. **_** I am so, so, so sorry for the long wait. I not only graduated, but then I moved out and I can't afford a computer yet at my new place and it's been crazy, crazy, crazy. This is the latest chapter, and I'm afraid I lost my list of people who followed or reviewed. Send me a PM stating that you reviewed or favorited or followed, and I will be sure to include you in the next chapter.**

**On to the next point I wanted to make: I am having a small poll. Who do you think Mizimel should have a love interest? Or should she not have one at all? I'm open! Just message me or leave a review with what you think, and I will list it. The ones I've received messages on so far are Fili, Thorin, and Bofur. Let me know what you think!**

**I promise I will be more consistent, because I will be getting a computer soon, believe me. Thank you so much for sticking it out with me!**

**-Mephistominion out**


	5. Chapter 5: Run, Run, Run

It wasn't long before trouble found its way to them. The day after her triumph over the log, they had traveled far and were well out of the Shire. Mizimel had thought that she'd be scared upon crossing over the border of her lifelong home, but she had felt nothing but excitement. Seeing as this was the exact opposite of how Bilbo seemed to feel, she knew that the dwarves had started to rub off on her. She wasn't sure if she was happy about that or not. As the sun started to fall Thorin finally called to stop for the night. The road had been long, that day, and everyone was sore but in generally good spirits. Mizimel herself was in a happy mood, and had swung down from her trusty pony humming a small tune to herself.

"You seem happy, milady." Bofur commented with a wide grin. She smiled back at him and held up a small burlap sack, waving it happily at him.

"I am very happy, indeed, Bofur. I found mushrooms along the road during one of our rests. Good ones, fresh for eating. I can't wait to use them." Bilbo appeared beside her and they walked to where the fire seemed to be setting up. Beside them, a dilapidated, crumbling home still stood. It sagged and creaked with the smallest gust of wind and Mizimel wondered at how the building was still standing. The fire was soon going, and she tried to ignore the brewing fight between Thorin and the wizard. She wasn't surprised when not it wasn't much longer and the wizard stormed away from camp.

"That wizard is a bit dramatic." Bombur said as they watched him stomp off. Mizimel shrugged.

"I would be furious with such a stubborn man as well." Mizimel mumbled

"So, what do you plan on making with these mushrooms so fresh for eating?" Bofur was beside her again as she leant down to start preparing dinner with Bombur. Bombur gave Bofur a flat look Mizimel couldn't decipher, but she didn't mind Bofur's questions. She enjoyed the company.

"I'm going to make a stew." She replied as she was starting to chop up potatoes and the mushrooms. "Mushroom and gravy stew."

Bombur nodded, having started to prep the meat for their meal. It was just the meat off a few rabbits that Kili had managed to shoot while riding across the country, but it would go nicely with their meal. Bofur let out a whistle of approval.

"Bofur!" Thorin's voice was irritated and harsh, and the hatted dwarf was quick to turn and face him. "Go unsaddle the ponies with Fili and Kili. They'll need help."

"On it." Bofur walked away toward where Fili and Kili were busy unsaddling and tying up the ponies. They were only around halfway done, and already Kili seemed to be up to something. Fili, as though sensing that someone was looking at him, turned to look at her and waved. She blushed and ducked her head, busying herself with taking the gills of the mushrooms out. She heard Bombur chuckle beside her and elbowed him, smiling to herself and shaking her head. Ever since that incident when he had walked into the kitchen when she was wearing nothing but a nightgown and a thin robe, she'd had trouble facing him. It was the most indecent thing that had ever happened to her, and it still made her red in the face just thinking about it.

Night had fallen, the ponies were safely put away and the stew was ready. She'd already gotten her training out of the way, most of it including lifting and learning how to hold one of Gloin's war axes. The dwarves were lining up for food, and Mizimel looked toward the forest.

"You alright, lass?"

"Ah, yes." She turned toward Dwalin who was looking at her with a hard stare. "I'm just fine. If I might take a walk?"

"You don't have to ask me. Be careful."

Mizimel curtsied to him and picked up a small waterskin, walking into the nearby trees. She knew the horses were picketed close to camp and wouldn't stray too far from there. After all, you never knew what was out in the woods during the night. She walked slowly, taking in the softening sounds of dusk. Soon, the forest would be alive with sound and activity, but during this time the place was the quietest it could be. It was peaceful, and it almost reminded her of her days growing up with Bilbo in the Shire. Back when they would be out until night, trailing in mud and twigs and fireflies.

She'd still never found an elf.

She found a nearby stream and knelt by it, looking around for anyone that might come by, before pulling out a kit she had stowed away in her skirts and opening it quietly. Her shaving supplies gleamed in the waning light and she went to work. Since leaving the Shire, she'd rarely found a moment alone, and the stubble she was growing along her jaw and cheeks was absolutely frightening. What would her parents say if they saw the state of her?

Well, beside the beard, they'd actually be pretty proud of her. She tried not to smile too happily at the thought as she prepped her shaving supplies. Women weren't meant to have beards. Nothing she'd seen from the dwarves had said differently, though she hadn't met any women dwarves. Dwarrowdams, they were called? She frowned at a new thought as it came across her mind: if dwarf women weren't meant to have beards, then why was _she _growing one? Was it a rare trait among dwarves? A freakish one? She made quick work of the hair on her chin, soon her skin was smooth and hairless again just as a woman's skin should be.

She was broken out of her thoughts when there was a thunderous sound and she stiffened in surprise. There was nothing she could see around her, just darkness now that the light had fallen. What in the name of-?

"What's this 'ere?" A deep, gravelling voice that rattled her ears echoed across to her and she let out a squeal of fear, jumping away from the stream and looking up in a panic. There was a looming shadow in the trees, so large it rivaled some of the trees. Speaking of trees, one had been uprooted and still vibrated from having been dislodged. So that was what the sound was; that wasn't comforting at all! What had uprooted such a large tree?

"Oh!" Mizimel gasped and stepped back, only to trip on a nearby root and land on her rear end. Whatever it was let out a grating laugh and stepped closer, its footsteps heavy but still surprisingly quiet.

"A woman, eh? You look like a sweet treat."

Mizimel's heart dropped to her stomach and she got back up and ran as quickly as she could. But, in dresses such as hers, one wasn't prone to being very fast. It reached out and grabbed her before she could even clear the first tree, and she was swept off her feet. Looking into the face of her kidnapper was an unfortunate moment for Mizimel, as it was one of the most hideous things she'd had the misfortune of seeing. It's eyes were mismatching, its hide tough and gray, its teeth were crooked and jagged, and it had some of the worst breath she'd ever encountered in her life.

"A lady dwarf?" It sniggered.

"Put me down! You ugly brute!" She shouted angrily once she'd regained her senses after being blindsided by its rancid breath. She was getting angry alongside her extreme fear. "What are you anyway?"

"I'm a troll. You'll make a nice treat." A _troll? _Mizimel felt like crying at her luck. The one night she strayed from the rest of the company by herself and she ended up getting kidnapped by a troll. Then she realized what it had said and began to struggle in earnest. It wanted to _eat_ her. She wailed and beat her fists against his large hand, fear rising in her. She'd heard plenty of stories about the atrocities of trolls, the primary ones talked about their appetites. The last thing she wanted was to become such an ugly thing's snack. She squirmed harder within his grasp, screaming fearfully. Could anyone even hear her?

"Quiet, you." She let out a strangled gurgle when the troll squeezed hard enough that she felt something snap. He'd squeezed her so tight he broke something, and now she could barely breathe. She went limp in his hands and he loosed his grip a little, allowing her to take short wheezing breaths. "Don't want ya to be too spoiled. And I don't want ta share ya. I think I'm gonna hide ya away."

_Please, no. _She wanted to object, but her head was still swimming with pain and she still hadn't drawn in enough breath to clear that feeling of choking away. The horrific troll tromped a little ways away before ducking into a natural cave; the smell alone took away any breath she'd managed to get back. The troll dropped her to the ground roughly, and she groaned as pain wracked her again. The place smelled like a mixture of death and feces. She gagged at the smell and brought her hands to her face.

"You're a thin little thing." The troll commented. "But I reckon you'll taste fine just the same." He poked her and she yelped, causing him to snicker with amusement. She got up shakily and looked up at him with a glare. Was he _toying _with her like a child playing with his food? She was a living being! Not a piece of meat! _She was a Took!_ She'd barely been standing up before she was thrown to the ground and tied up in ropes. She let out a grunt when a something -likely his weapon- slam across her head, and she felt blood slowly start to snake down her face.

"Don't struggle, and I'll make killin' ya quick business, ya hear?"

Mizimel nodded, eyes burning and chin quivering with fright, head and body throbbing with pain. The troll snorted and grinned before leaving the cave with small cackles and guffaws at the thought of the tasty treat he had waiting for him. The dwarrowdam let out a soft sob, head hanging as her shoulders shook and her chest heaved. She'd left home, learned more of dwarves and her people, made dwarven friends, and for what? Now she was going to be eating by a hideous troll with a gimp eye and snotty nose.

Oh, her sister would be furious if she could see her now. Let her guard down, left the safety of the company.

"The company." Mizimel's eyes turned toward the opening of the cave and she struggled to stand under the weight of her bonds. The company was in terrible danger with a troll lurking about. And from the sounds of it, he had friends he didn't want to share her with. She had to tell them. She tried to take a step forward and let out a shaking whimper as the ropes he'd bound her in seemed to pull and make her joints pop. What was really frustrating was that the ropes weren't necessarily tied in place, just wrapped around her tightly and wound many times. She tried to move again before she stumbled and nearly fell. With a hiss, she turned to see what could possibly have held her down. The ropes that bound her were attached to heavy boulders that, even with her considerable strength, she'd never be able to even budge,

"Ugh...shit!" She spat at the ground before collapsing. It was no good. The weights that were attached to her ropes were more than she could handle, and she was tired and too sore from training and when the troll had practically strangled her in his grip. Something was broken, she could feel it.

"Mahal...that hurts." She said with clenched teeth and ragged breath. She looked around desperately, praying for something to get her out of this mess. So stupid! She'd wandered too far away and had gotten snatched up by a _troll_. Horrendous luck, and what a way to die! She wriggled in the spot, unable to think about anything but her bad fortune and a way out of this mess.

* * *

"No thanks to your burglar."

Gandalf looked irritated. "He had the nous to play for time."

Bilbo looked around at the company as they got dressed and helped one another from the sacks the trolls had unceremoniously shoved them into. Bilbo was still trying to get the smell out of his nose. However, looking around at the company made him realize the lack of one particular member that should have been obvious from the start.

"Where's Mizimel?" He asked loudly, panic rising as he started to swivel around looking for her. Fili looked at him with wide eyes and Dwalin spat.

"Damn, I forgot she'd wandered off before she got dinner."

"Come," Thorin hollered from his place next to Gandalf. "There's a troll hoard nearby. Let's find it."

Bilbo ran over to Gandalf, his worry still building.

"Gandalf, Mizimel is missing." He said anxiously. "She's been gone since dinner time." The wizard looked perplexed but had no time to talk as the dwarves walked forward following Thorin. Ori and Bifur were sent back to camp to get some of the supplies and saddle the ponies for departure, while the rest were sent to search for anything that could serve as a decent troll cave. It didn't take long, all they had to do was follow the stench.

"Tread carefully." Thorin warned as they began to step into the cave. The others began to hack and cough at the odors that wafted through the cave. Rotting flesh, waste, troll smell, all of it mixed together to assault their sense of smell, waging war on the contents of their stomachs.

Thorin and Gandalf fought briefly on the Elvish blades before the dwarf accepted the blade, noting its superb balance and quality.

"Let's move out." Thorin called out the order and moved to exit the cave, but stopped when his foot connected with something a little out of place in a troll hoard.

"This is...hers." Thorin's brow furrowed as he reached down to pick it up. It was a relatively small locket made in the simple Hobbit style, he recalled her talking about it to Bofur who had asked about it during their travels. Opening it up revealed a couple of small sketches of what he knew to be her parents and also of Bilbo's mother. When it finally clicked what it was that he held he looked around him, worry building. She was naive and barely even a dwarf, but she was still one of his people, and it was clear now that she'd been in the cave.

"Thorin! Something's coming!" Dwalin's shout from the mouth of the cave made Thorin cease his searching and with a clenched jaw he marched his way out of the offending cave. He would have to find her once all of the confusion had passed.

* * *

Mizimel was sitting silent now, eyes scanning the dark cave pensively, trying to think of ways to escape. She knew dinner would be served by now, surely someone had noticed that she was gone. If not Bombur or Bilbo, then surely Bofur or Dwalin had noticed. But she heard nothing and her hope began to wane. She'd have to get herself out of this mess.

"Think, girl, think." She looked around again and rolled over until she was on her stomach. The effort made pain shoot through her like nothing she'd felt before but she tried her best to ignore it. Once the pain passed, she noticed something cool and hard against her thigh and wriggled against it. She hissed when she felt it slice against her clothes and open a small cut on her skin.

"Yes!" She'd found something to cut her ropes with...but how to get it into her hands for use? Especially without hurting herself further? She rolled herself carefully away and tried sitting up but ended up letting out a pained cry and slumped over. Mizimel looked up at the dark cave wall with tears in her eyes. She wouldn't go out like this, she wouldn't. With a rather nasty expletive she once again tried to get to her knees, and even after she heard another crack come from her body she surged forward and landed on her knees. She wobbled unsteadily but managed to hold firm, gently reaching her one free hand to grasp the blade on the ground. It wasn't much more than a letter opener but it was sharp and she went to work on the ropes around her body. The pieces began to fall away, and with one final snap, she was free. She wasted no time in surging to her feet and running out of the cave, adrenaline and panic taking over. In her dazed mind, that was her one goal. Run, run, run away from the danger.

* * *

Bilbo walked with the dwarves down the elvish halls, taking in everything with an awe filled gaze. It was all so ethereal and stunning, and the scenery filled him with peace. He'd finally met some elves, just wait until he told…

"Mizimel!" His exclamation drew the attention of the irritated dwarves around him and one by one they began to understand.

"She's still missing." Gandalf stated.

"We have to go find her!" Kili declared.

"What if she was taken by the orcs?" Bofur worried.

"She was stupid to wander off!" Gloin growled.

"Oi! Take that back!" Fili shouted, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Excuse me." The elf Lindir stood in front of them and all the dwarves went silent, glaring at him for interrupting their shouting. He was the picture of calm and grace but to them he seemed haughty and cold. Maybe he was a bit.

"My Lord Elrond wished for me to inform you of our most recent guest. She was found collapsed on our lands, a dwarf lady in dirty clothes and poor shape. Is she your missing companion?"

"Does she have long, dark hair?" Bilbo asked, worry laced heavily in his voice. Lindir nodded and the dwarves clamored to go see her. The elf didn't look pleased with the idea before Lord Elrond, who was walking ahead of them with Gandalf, said something to him in elvish and Lindir's expression turned understanding.

"I will take you to see your aunt, now." It was clear he meant Bilbo only. The hobbit followed quickly after him. When they entered the healing chambers Bilbo had to try very hard to not cry out in alarm when he saw her; she was bruised and unconscious. There was a terrible cut along her forehead, one of her eyes was blackened and her lip was split. She was bound heavily in bandages across her feet and the healer was working on cleaning and stitching the cut on her head shut.

"What happened to her?" His voice was wobbly and he went to her side, gently taking her hand in his. It was distinctly alarming to see his strong aunt, his sister, his best friend so hurt. Lindir spoke briefly with the tall healer elf in their own language. It went on for a minute or two as Lindir asked questions and the healer answered them as best she could. Bilbo waited as patiently as he could for them to finish, his eyes going back and forth between the healer, Lindir, and Mizimel.

"Healer Aldanna says it appears that she's fractured several ribs and had some internal bleeding which we've stopped; she had a concussion from being hit in the head, it also caused that cut on her head and the bruises on her face; her feet are badly injured but she came to us without shoes so we can assume that it was due to her running across the plains and such without her boots." The handsome elf man looked troubled as he reported what the healer said back in the common tongue. Bilbo had tears running down his cheeks by the time Lindir was done speaking. What had happened to her? Who could have done such a thing to his beautiful sister? The healer spoke again in elvish and Lindir began to respond. They again stayed that way for a few minutes as they discussed in their native language, Lindir shooting out questions in rapid fire elvish while the healer responded with a calmer and slower tongue.

"What?" questioned Bilbo. "What is it?"

"Healer Aldanna was wondering about your relationship to the dwarf and what her patient's name is?" Lindir asked plainly.

"She's my adopted aunt, technically. We grew up together, she's more like my sister. Her name is Mizimel."

"A female dwarf, adopted into a hobbit family?" Lindir asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "They guard their women jealously, they keep them so close there are even some who don't believe female dwarves exist."

"She was abandoned by the Shire as a baby. My grandfather and grandmother couldn't leave her to die by the road, so they adopted her and raised her as their own. They died when she was young. Young for a dwarf, anyway, and my mother took her in. We were raised together, like I said. She's my closest friend and family, I won't let anyone doubt that!"

"We were not questioning your love or hers, young master." Healer Aldanna's voice was heavily accented and Bilbo could tell that she rarely spoke in the common tongue. "I just needed to know the relations of your company to her, including your own. Please, _mellon_, tell me more about your dwarf friends."

"Well…"

* * *

"They've been gone a long while." Fili was worried, eyes darting around waiting for Bilbo or - better yet - Mizimel to come into the dining area. The entire company was waiting for word back about their most recent additions to their adventure. Fili and Bofur were particularly vocal about wanting an update, mumbling or outright shouting it every few minutes. Thorin was silent about it at the head table, but eventually he'd had enough.

"As you can see, Lord Elrond-" Mahal, he hated even being around this pompous elf lord, "-my company is eager for news about our other members. Have you heard anything about them?" Thorin wouldn't admit that he was also eager for news about Mizimel. As soon as he'd realized she'd been in that cave he had almost been frantic. The deep rooted respect and urge to protect their women had surfaced fiercely, and even now he was itching to make sure she was okay. She wasn't raised with them, true, but she was a dwarf all the same and dwarrowdams were precious above all others save the children.

"I have not heard word as of yet, Master Oakenshield. Lindir, my squire, is currently with them. He will be updating me shortly once Master Baggins is done visiting his sister."

It irked Thorin that the hobbit got to see her but they could not. He knew they'd been raised together but she was a dwarf, she was one of his people, not Bilbo's. Still, he knew of Mizimel's loyalty to the hobbit and how she could snap if someone poked fun or questioned their bond so he decided not to comment on it. He didn't want Mizimel to find out that he'd been badmouthing her adopted nephew, she would be less than pleased.

"My Lord." As if one cue, Lindir appeared behind Lord Elrond with a grim expression. Thorin's heart leapt into his throat and he began to fear. Had something dire happened to the young dwarrowdam? He had told Gandalf that he wouldn't be responsible for them, but he still felt tied to Mizimel. If she died because of this quest… Lord Elrond and Lindir spoke quietly in elvish, their hushed tones only served to stoke his anger but Thorin kept quiet. For a few minutes, they did nothing but talk quietly to one another. The rest of the company, while still rowdy, were also waiting for the news about their sole female member.

"Master Oakenshield, if you and your company would follow me." They all clambered to their feet and followed after the graceful Lord Elrond as he swept out of the dining area. His steps were near silent and his gait was long, but Thorin kept up easily. They were lead to a pristine looking hall where gentle music and singing could be heard echoing like a gentle caress. Frankly, it was damn annoying but Thorin again said nothing. He waited for Lord Elrond to explain or at least show them where Mizimel was. Lord Elrond motioned for them to enter the closest room and it opened up into a large study with multiple chairs and rows and rows of books and paintings. Ori looked positively delighted and had to be physically restrained by Dori to make sure he didn't wander off and get lost within the tomes. Some of the company sat, the others chose to stand. Lord Elrond took a seat across from them.

"I decided it would be best to tell you the news here. You might get upset, and this room will hold most sound in. I've been informed that Lady Took is healed and resting now."

There was a collective sigh of relief from all of the company, even those who didn't approve of Mizimel or Bilbo being with them; they didn't like them, but that didn't mean they wished the lass any harm.

"What happened to her?" Fili asked eagerly, his handsome face open and earnest. Kili sat beside him with a similar expression. The boys wanted to know what had caused her to become separated and harmed like the rest of them.

"She woke up long enough to convey her story to her healers when she first arrived in our valley. She was badly injured and in shock, rambling badly and we were unable to understand her. After she began to calm down and we worked on healing her, she told her story. She went unconscious not long before your company appeared as well. She told us how you camped at an old farmer's house, she had been training with weapons and went to go refresh herself via a stream not far from camp."

The dwarves nodded, and Dwalin grunted as he remembered that he was the one who let her go off by herself.

"She described that as she was done and about to go back, she heard a loud sound in the forest as the light of day waned behind the moors. She began to walk back when she was confronted by a large, "hideously, unbearably ugly" troll - as she put it."

The company groaned as they realized she had run into one of the three trolls that they'd just taken care of only a few hours ago. Thorin felt intense worry fill him again at the thought of one dwarf woman standing alone against a mountain troll. She was lucky it hadn't eaten her right on the spot, and then they would have never known what happened to her.

"It picked her up and proceeded to crush her in its grip, causing several fractured ribs and internal bleeding. It said it wanted to save her as a treat for later so no one else could eat her. The troll took her back to its cave, bound her in thick ropes tied to a boulder so she couldn't move, then hit her forcefully over the head so she would be too dazed or hurt to escape. From that blow, it cut her forehead deeply and gave her a concussion, also bruising her face and splitting her lip. It took a while for her to regain her senses, and when she did she forced herself up and got a hold of a knife lying on the ground, allowing her to cut through her bonds and flee before the troll could come back to eat her." Lord Elrond sighed. "Unfortunately, shock began to kick in for her as well as panic, and she began to run. It was all she could think of, and didn't notice she had no shoes on, having lost them in the struggle to fight the troll. She ran for miles through forest and plain before going unconscious near our valley, and without the shoes she's badly cut and damaged her feet. Lady Mizimel will need a while to heal, Master Oakenshield, before you continue on your journey...wherever it may be."

Fili's face was one of pure anger and hatred and Thorin's wasn't much better. Hearing of a dwarf woman being so badly abused and hurt went against everything the dwarves were taught. Even Gloin, who had yet to warm up to Mizimel was absolutely furious at her treatment.

"Evil monsters!" Fili hissed, standing up and breaking the shocked silence that had fallen over the dwarves. "They deserved worse than turning into some silly stone statues!" The dwarves all at once began to loudly shout and curse at the wretched creatures, Bifur even spat at some point.

"Fili, calm yourself." Thorin ordered quietly. The young prince sat back down, still fuming but obeying his uncle's command. With another shout in dwarvish, the rest of the company quieted down and looked at their leader expectantly. The dwarf king looked at Lord Elrond with a dark expression. "I apologize, we let her out of our sight and was taken. We thank you for saving her, we are in your debt."

Hearing those words come out of their king's mouth was more shocking than Mizimel's unfortunate story and they looked at him completely stunned. He'd even managed to say it cordially. Gandalf looked pleased and nodded to Lord Elrond as well. "I'm sure she's healing just fine?" Lord Elrond nodded at Gandalf's question.

"My most skilled healers saw to it that she'd live. Now, we are waiting for her ribs to set and for her feet and bruises to heal. She won't be able to walk for at least a week, the cuts were deep and the damage was substantial. I know you are eager to leave, but I suggest, for your woman's sake, that you wait."

Thorin nodded to him, not responding with words. He'd already thanked the elf lord once, he didn't think he needed a repeat. It wasn't until after they left the study and were walking toward the healing rooms that Balin pointed something out to him.

"It looks like the elves are assuming she's your wife, Thorin."

"_What?_" Thorin nearly tripped when he heard Balin's words, disbelief clear in his voice and on his face.

"He called her 'your woman,' I'm not sure what Bilbo's told them but it looks like they're assume she's here because she's our leader's wife."

Thorin nearly blushed, but he wasn't some doe eyed dwarfling so he didn't. Instead he scowled angrily and scoffed. "Ridiculous. She's so young, and she doesn't even have a beard."

Balin's brow furrowed at the insult Thorin had thrown out and after a moment Thorin sighed, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. You know that anything having to do with romance or the like makes me uncomfortable."

"I do know that, but for now I believe it'd be best to let the elves think it. We don't need any suspicion thrown on us, and we can't let it taint her honor. We should let them believe what they want, and when we leave we'll drop it."

Thorin stewed over Balin's words and didn't answer him for a while, it wasn't until they reached Mizimel's personal room that he finally answered Balin. All he did was nod at the old dwarf, causing the latter to smile and nod. Thorin knew that Balin would take care of it, and if they were lucky this would go off without a hitch. Still, the idea of having to treat Mizimel like his _wife_...his heart thumped heavily and he quickly abandoned the thought. The term 'wife' in association with his name was something he'd abandoned long ago after the taking of Erebor. An exiled prince wasn't a marriage worthy one, the same went for an exiled king. He entered first, as the Leader of their company and their King. Also as her supposed "husband."

"Thorin." Bilbo sounded surprised. It was clear from his slightly red rimmed eyes that he had been crying and Thorin tried to give him a disapproving look.

"Thor...in…?" The dwarf king looked away from Bilbo who was currently occupied with worrying over a now conscious Mizimel. Thorin's fist clenched in anger when he saw her wounds. She had a large cut which had been stitched shut on her head and bruises stretched from the cut to the side of her face, a hideous purple and blue.

"Mizimel." He managed to say, going to the other side of her bed. Normally, he would've just stayed away but...he was supposed to act familiar with her. Not just familiar, but affectionate.

"I'm...sorry." She whispered in a rough voice. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, tired. "I must have...caused problems, for you."

"Not at all, my lady. I am glad you are safe." He leaned in close to her head and whispered softly in her ear so no one else could hear. "The elves think you're my wife. For your honor and the sake of our journey, please pretend that you are."

He hated asking someone obviously so hurt but she seemed to understand as her eyes cleared at bit and he could see a blush rising on the skin that wasn't bruised.

"Mizimel." Fili was at the foot of her bed, his handsome young face the picture of concern. The dwarrowdam smiled wearily at him and the rest of the dwarves which had come into her room. All of them looked concerned about her, and though she knew it was just because of her gender and not because of _her_ it was still nice. Thorin himself was worrying because she was a lady dwarf but...it was also because of who she was. She'd helped lift the company's spirits many a time and he had always appreciated her for it.

"I'm sorry, everyone. I'm just useless enough that I got caught." She chuckled softly. "My lessons aren't paying off quite yet."

"Quiet, lass." Dwalin rumbled, his fierce face pulled into a frown; though, for him, it was quite softened from his usual scowl or glare. "I won't hear any of that 'useless' nonsense."

"Besides," offered Bofur cheerily beside the tall dwarf warrior, "we all got caught by those trolls! Nearly had us for dinner, they did."

The dwarrowdam's green eyes widened in surprise. They were looking less dazed by the minute and Thorin was grateful for that. He didn't like seeing someone so incapacitated, it brought back rough memories.

"No! What happened?"

Bofur, being a naturally gifted storyteller, began an animated tale of their misfortune with the trolls, starting with Fili and Kili leading Bilbo into danger. The hobbit was watching them with a relaxed but amused face; now that he was reunited with his aunt he felt much better. Thorin settled beside her bed, watching his company with his expression as neutral as usual, taking no notice of the questioning glances he was getting from his nephews.

* * *

**Yeah, I have no excuses. Just a piece of shit who has practically written out this entire story but never updated the chapters. T3T You guys can expect pretty frequent updates now because I have most of this written out and all. Thanks to those who even commented and bothered with this stuff! Shout out to you.**

**As always, please comment and let me know what you think. You guys are so bomb, and this fandom rocks. **

**-Mephistominion out**


	6. Chapter 6: Itkit

"So...they assume I'm your wife and so you'll be showing me more attention than the others?"

"Yes. Dwarves are reserved in front of strangers, so I won't need to do anything...bold."

"Ah," Mizimel cleared her throat, "I see."

"But, I will dine with you and visit you. I'll make sure your recovery comes along nicely."

"Thank you, Master Oakenshield."

"Thorin." He reminded her gently and she gave him a sweet smile. They never could call each other by their first name. Even with the bruises and the cut healing on her forehead, she shone with a happy beauty. She was so young and hopeful, green eyes shining brightly. It reminded him of his sister and brother before the fall of Erebor.

"I hope you know I don't expect anything to...well, happen between us." Mizimel cleared her throat again and Thorin was beginning to think it was a nervous habit of hers; she looked a bit embarrassed. "And I hope I don't mess anything up for you and the company."

"I am sure you will be fine. Follow my lead, and they will be none the wiser."

"Does the rest of the company know? A shocked or angered reaction would be detrimental - to say the least." Thorin nodded at Mizimel's words. He had told his company what was going on quickly. As she'd said, their reactions would ruin everything and that was the last thing he needed while stuck in this forsaken place. The dam looked pleased and settled back into bed.

"Thorin?" She started hesitantly after a few moments of silence.

"Yes?" She definitely reminded him of his younger siblings, or even his nephews.

"Do you do anything for fun? You know, hobbies and the like?"

"I haven't much time for 'hobbies' Mizimel." He eyed her as one would a loud dwarfling and she gave him a chagrined look.

"Oh, come now, there must be _something_ you enjoy doing when you have the time." Mizimel wanted to know about her leader. It would help her be more comfortable around him, it would make acting like his wife much easier. Thorin seemed to think about it for a while. Likely pondering whether or not he even wanted to talk to her. But eventually he responded to her question with a real answer

"I play the harp."

"Really? Amazing! I always wanted to learn to play an instrument, but I never had the patience for it." She grunted as she moved to sit up in her bed and Thorin was quick to help her, putting pillows in place and hovering until she was seated comfortably. She seemed so fragile and yet so determined to not let that get in her way. It was endearing.

"How long have you played?"

"Surely longer than you've been alive."

Mizimel's smile fell and she tilted her head. "But...how? How old are you?" Thorin was disappointed again in how little she knew but as he'd promised her before the quest had started, he would teach her as much as possible.

"At least twice your own age."

"Oh my! I didn't realize dwarves lived for so long." Mizimel looked a bit dismayed and Thorin knew she was thinking about the burglar. She'd still be fairly young by the time he died and Thorin understood why she felt this way. To outgrow someone, watching them slowly age and die away while you stayed young…

"Mizimel, it will be alright. You are a dwarf, and we are strong."

"Strong and steadfast, like the mountains we call home."

Thorin felt a deep rush of pride in his chest, and he gave her a full blown smile, one that he usually reserved for his nephews. She was learning, he could help her find her inner dwarf, yet. He placed his hand upon hers and nodded.

"You feel it, do you not?"

"I do." Her eye were still suspiciously watery but her voice was strong. She had a determined expression just like before and he knew she would be alright. They shared an understanding look before she suddenly let out a loud yawn and he remembered again that she was still very injured.

"Ah, my lady, forgive me. You need your rest. I will be sure to let the company know of your recovery." He patted her hand again and stood back up, making to leave the room. He paused when her sleepy voice reached him from the bed, slurred and already fading fast.

"Mmn...I thank you. Tell...ili and...ur, said hi…"

He didn't know what she was saying but told her he would do so anyway. He'd just tell the whole company she said hello to cover all his bases. He left the room then, leaving his young, slumbering "wife" to her bed.

His company were eager for news. In his way, he told them she was recovering nicely, and told them that she said hello to all of them. Fili and Kili wanted to see her, but after a stern refusal and explanation of her exhaustion they backed down. He could tell that they'd gotten close to the young dam, and told them that he'd bring them along next time.

"Why don't we all go visit her?" Bofur suggested hopefully. Bombur elbowed him and Bifur mumbled something in what wasn't exactly a coherent language. Fili frowned at the hatted dwarf.

"I don't think that's wise. We don't want to over crowd her, after all. We can see her in waves." Fili looked at Thorin who nodded in agreement. Yes, it would be better if they only went a few at a time during the day. It made perfect sense to the exiled king who voiced his agreement and stated that Balin and Dwalin would see her after them. He didn't bother to notice Fili's smug look or Bofur's disheartened one.

* * *

"Are you getting enough to eat?"

"Yes, Bilbo."

"Do you have enough pillows and comforters?"

"_Yes_, Bilbo."

"And are you-?"

"Bilbo," Mizimel cut him off with a small laugh, putting her hand over his. "I am fine. Please, you're worrying overly much, I am doing well."

Bilbo huffed, "I am worrying just enough, thank you. I thought I'd lost you, Mizimel, and then I would've been all alone again with no one as company but the rest of these dwarves."

Mizimel patted his hand again in comfort and to remind him that she was here and still living. Bilbo had always had Mizimel there, it was what had guided him through the harsh time when his parents had died. The idea of being alone again frightened him far more than any warg did, and she knew that. Mizimel sat up a little more in her chair and took his hand in hers.

"Bilbo, dear, I'll always be here for you. You know this." She brought their heads together and rested her forehead against his and Bilbo closed his eyes in comfort at the contact. For as long as he could remember, she'd always done this when he was frightened or worried. The family didn't know where she got it from but it helped him nonetheless. They parted and he stepped away from her chair, straightening out his coat and holding his head high acting as though nothing had happened. She smiled wryly at him.

"I'll protect you, Mizimel. I won't let anything else happen to you."

"That's a lofty promise, my dear hobbit."

"It's one I intend to keep, dear aunt." After that, Bilbo took his leave of her, urging her to rest and let him know if she needed anything, and that he'd have a word with the Elvish cook about making sure she got enough to eat. Mizimel would have run after him to stop him but even the thought of doing so made her feet ache and she winced. She glanced at the bandaged appendages in distaste and not for the first time she shook her head in anger at her own stupidity. Not long after Bilbo left there was a knock at her door and she looked up from her book with surprise. She didn't think Thorin would visit her today, as he was busy dealing with Lord Elrond and figuring out supplies for their journey and other important things.

"Come in!"

She couldn't help the bright smile that appeared on her face when she saw Fili and Kili enter the room. "Oh, I didn't know you'd be visiting today."

"That's the point of a surprise, Mizimel, it's that you don't know it's going to happen before it happens." Kili said snarkily and she rolled her eyes. In reality, she was glad to see them. They were the closest to her in age, and while Bilbo and Thorin were great company it was hard to be so serious all the time. She knew that the two young dwarves would help take her mind off what was going on with her body. The two sat down in the chairs across from her, both of them adopting lazy and relaxed postures and Fili looked at her with a smile.

"How has our _aunt_ been?"

She giggled, "I've been well, just...healing. Slowly. And also bored out of my mind sitting here."

"We can help with that, luckily. We've come here to provide a distraction from your current situation. Tell me, would you like to learn more of our people?" As the two had predicted, Mizimel perked up considerably and her smile turned into a practically blinding one as she nodded. Fili leaned forward and offered her a small book which she accepted almost reverently. She opened it and scanned over what she saw before her brow furrowed in confusion.

"These symbols...I don't-"

"That is our written language. We guard it as jealously as our spoken language." Fili explained.

"We thought we'd teach you a bit of both while we're here, help you turn into a proper dwarf, and all that." Kili made her smile again and they began to teach her small phrases and why things went together the way they did. They found that she was a fast learner, soaking in everything they said with nods and smiles, and her pronunciation wasn't bad for someone who'd never heard the language for longer than a word or two. They continued for a while, all the while Mizimel and Fili and Kili became more and more comfortable with each other.

"So, if I wanted to tell someone to be quiet, or silence…?"

"Trying to tell us to shut up, aunt?" Kili teased and she laughed, shaking her head.

"No! Of course not, I was just wondering."

"I'd say, _shazara_, or _itkit_." Fili supplied and she nodded, scrawling down something in a journal she'd been using during their impromptu lesson. "They are fairly rude, however, so I wouldn't use it unless you're really trying to get someone to stop talking."

"Got it."

"I think you'll catch on quickly, Mizimel." Fili's smile was warm and encouraging and the lady dwarf gave him a nod, happy that he thought so (also secretly very pleased with his compliment and the smile that he was giving her). It had been a whirlwind for her, transitioning from the cushioned lifestyle of the Hobbits to travelling around with her people and learning more about their culture and habits. There was so many things that were alright among dwarves but would never have been allowed around hobbits, and vice versa. Still, like Fili said, she was a fast learner and she was already catching on quickly.

"Oh, nephews, I didn't realize you would visit her as well." Thorin had come to visit her. He took his role - even if it was fake - as a husband very seriously. Mizimel brightened and she motioned to what they were working on.

"We thought we'd help her start learning about how to be a proper dwarf." Kili teased her and she scowled at him, tossing a small piece of crumpled up paper at him. Of course he dodged it easily but she didn't care. It was the _principle_ of the thing.

"Are you? And what are you teaching her?"

"Just a bit of the odd Khuzdul. It's essential to us as a people, so we've been teaching her - quietly." Fili explained. Thorin seemed to think about it for a moment and Mizimel was worried he might object, knowing that the king-in-exile was very conservative about the culture and language of his people. Even Bilbo, who had been travelling with them for a little while now, was not allowed to learn anything about Khuzdul or Iglishmêk; however, with her lessons with the youngest Durin's and learning from the dwarves, she could understand why they were so secretive. When every race treated you the way you did, you'd want to keep this to yourself too.

"That's good," Thorin eventually said, and Mizimel was relieved, "I appreciate you taking the initiative, as I'm sure my lady wife does."

Mizimel giggled at the title, knowing that Thorin was laying it on a bit thick for anyone who might be listening in. She didn't think these elves might be so nosy, but she never knew. Thorin took a seat next to her and asked her how she was doing and she felt content. Being with them, it felt right. Thorin was still as intimidating and royal as ever, and the boys were bubbly and outgoing, but she felt comfortable with them. They were starting to feel like family.

* * *

Mizimel healed quickly after that. Daily physical therapy and lessons from the dwarves helped her occupy her time and look forward to leaving. Rivendell was beautiful and the elves treat her well, but she was anxious to get going. She knew it was likely because of Thorin's constant grumbling about needing to leave, but she felt like if they didn't leave soon, something might happen. Currently, she was walking arm in arm with Thorin down the hall. Night had fallen and they had eaten dinner together in her room, and at her request he was helping her take a night stroll. They didn't speak, but she found that she was comfortable with that. Thorin wasn't one for words and she could sit in silence with him easily.

"How have you been faring, my lady?" He asked softly after a few minutes. The halls were softly lit with candles, it was quiet and calm. "I have not visited you since yesterday."

"Ah, I'm alright, ser. The healers say I am healing quickly, and...I am eager to go, if I may say so. This place is beautiful and calming, to be sure, but I feel like we must be leaving soon."

"I agree. However, we could not continue on without our lady, could we?" His teasing tone caused her to blush and laugh.

"I suppose not."

They heard quiet voices but continued walking until they reached a balcony which overlooked the valley. The air was clear and fresh, and the stars twinkled brilliantly in the night sky. Thorin leaned against the railing, and slowly put his hand on her back to support her. She blushed heavily and was glad that it was too dark for him to see. Or maybe he could see it, but he didn't comment on it.

"It is a beautiful night."

"It is."

"Thorin...I wanted to thank you."

The king turned to look at her and she could tell that he was a bit confused. "For?"

"I know that I have delayed our travels and I know you are eager to continue, but you have not left me behind and have tried to take me in. Even in Bag End, you would not leave me behind and I have had the chance to learn more about my heritage. This means much more to me than you know."

Thorin's face was unreadable and before he could answer voices interrupted from above. Mizimel watched Thorin's face as Gandalf and Lord Elrond discussed him and his ancestors. She hadn't intended to learn about this weakness, of this dark history that Thorin had clearly been trying to escape. Gold sickness? Was that what had caused the dragon to come? Thorin's posture was rigid and angry, his blue eyes flashing with emotion. His handsome face immediately shut down and without a word he turned from her and left. She didn't go after him knowing that he needed to be alone - besides, with her feet the way they were she couldn't have caught up to him. She went to bed with a heavy heart.

The next morning found our dwarf lady in the library of Rivendell. Mizimel sighed and looked up at the map on the wall; at the moment, she was in the library, and there was a huge map of Middle Earth on the wall in front of her and stacks and stacks of books around her. Like Ori and Bilbo, she had a natural affinity for books and loved to read and learn. There were a lot of books and scrolls which were in Elvish, but plenty others were in Common (she'd heard that there might have even been some in Dwarvish from the librarian but she hadn't told the rest of the company that). Her eyes were drawn to the depiction of Erebor, the sight of a small red dragon twisting across it. With a shake of her head, she looked back down and began to read again.

_And Isildur drew his father's broken sword and cut the Ring of Power from Sauron's hand, and the evil was destroyed. The Alliance of Men, Elves, and Dwarves was broken. The Ring of Power disappeared from that day, waiting to return to its Master..._

"Oh," Mizimel glanced at the candle and realized how long she'd been reading. "I need to find Thorin, we're taking dinner together." Well, they were supposed to, but after the previous night she wasn't sure.

She gathered the book she'd been reading and her skirts, standing up and leaving the library with a hum. She had fallen easily into the role of Thorin's wife; she found that, like Thorin had said, the elves did not expect much from them. His attentiveness toward her and constant visits and "lady wife's" had convinced them of their attachment. She was glad she didn't have to do more than that; she didn't think her hobbit sensibilities would be able to handle it. Mizimel wondered how he was doing, if he was okay. Old wounds had been opened last night and in front of her, someone who was practically a stranger. She wanted to help simply didn't know how. Maybe, if he showed up to dinner, she could help him.

She heard soft spoken voices up ahead and - not wanting to eavesdrop - she opened her book and began to read. However, as she got closer, she began to recognize the voices and paused. Was that...Thorin?

* * *

"We cannot delay much longer." Thorin argued under his breath, his blue eyes scanning the garden for anyone who might have the audacity to eavesdrop. Balin huffed, his beard scrunching up along with his tightening jaw. The old dwarf looked very irritated, or at the least disappointed. Thorin hated when he looked at him like that, it made him feel like nothing more than a dwarfling. He was going to continue arguing but Balin interrupted him.

"Mizimel is nearly healed. She is back on her feet and is getting her stitches out soon. We cannot leave her behind."

Thorin's own jaw began to clench in irritation, the clogs in his mind churning as he thought of a solution. However, only one seemed clear to him and he kept pressing it. His anger was rising, his reasoning was being pushed aside. "We've spent long enough in this damned place. Everyday, I'm having to dote on her and fawn like I'm attached to her in a way I _am not_. The company is getting restless to go, and Durin's day is getting closer every second but we are no closer to the Mountain.

"Balin, we cannot miss this chance, if - by taking this chance - that means we leave that beardless, Hobbit-ish woman behind then _so be it._"

"Thorin." Balin warned, eyes looking wide and alarmed as they looked behind him. Thorin turned, dreading what he'd find - and he was right to do so. Mizimel was in the hall behind them; her eyes were trained in front of her and a book was in her hands but it was clear she'd heard what he'd said. There were tears gathering and she looked hurt beyond words.

"Mizim-"

"_Itkit!_" She shouted in perfect khuzdul, turning her head and practically running away. Her gait was clumsy, her feet still healing, but with how fast she was moving she'd likely set her recovery back some. Balin looked angrily at Thorin.

"Do not pretend that you don't care for her. That 'doting' you claim to have hated so much was genuine, whether as family or more I don't care. But as you just heard, she's more Dwarvish than you think." The older dwarf left him with a shake of his head and Thorin was left conflicted, standing silently between two rose bushes but feeling like he was being choked by them instead.

* * *

**Pssh,**

**Lol, you guys. I said frequent updates and then the holidays came and nearly killed me. I was almost deathly sick, went to the hospital two times. Like, that was pretty awful. Buuut, I got this edited for you guys in between being sick and working whenever I could so please enjoy!**

** Leona2016: Believe it or not, I definitely haven't chosen yet. Most of the story has been written where it could go one way or the other, but nothing concrete. I can rewrite certain parts once I've decided who she ends up with, but I love hearing what the readers think! Thank you so much for responding to me.**

** Zyenna: You're so sweet, thank you so much. I'll try to update sooner!**

**I'll be updating again. Thanks again for reading and please review if the urge hits you!**

**-Mephistominion Out**


	7. Chapter 7: Lost and Found

"Where's Mizimel?" Bilbo asked curiously, peering into her hospital room which lay empty. The elf healer simply shook her head and commented in Elvish that she didn't know. Bilbo sighed and thanked her before leaving to find his aunt. There weren't too many places an injured dwarf woman could go, right? It turned out there was, because soon he'd looked in all the regular places he could find her and still didn't know where she was. He'd been so worried he hadn't looked where he was going before he ran headlong into Dwalin and Kili. There had been many 'excuse me's and 'I'm so sorry!'s that poured from Bilbo's mouth but they didn't look bothered. In fact, they'd hardly even moved and somehow Bilbo felt very much smaller than usual, especially under Mister Dwalin's gaze.

"What's the rush, Mister Boggins?" Kili joked and Dwalin smirked. Bilbo couldn't help himself as he blurted, "Mizimel is missing."

Dwalin's smirk dropped quickly and was replaced with a scowl, "What do you mean she's missing?"

"I mean just that. She's not been in her rooms, or the gardens, or the kitchens, or the library-!"

"Let's go find her." Dwalin voice was gruff but still Bilbo could detect the worry in his voice and Kili's face was practically painted with it. They set off down the hall and Bilbo sat there in surprise, but slowly he began to smile. They cared about her. Ah, if only Mizimel could have seen them then, Bilbo wished, she wouldn't feel so foreign for very much longer.

* * *

The night was peaceful, with the soft twitters of birds and animals as they became active under the moon. The trees shifted with a gentle, warm breeze, and the only sound out of place was that of soft crying hidden under the bows of the willow trees. She had been crying for a little while now. Seated on a lovely stone bench, hidden from view by some willow trees, she sat with her head in her hands and she let out her sadness and hurt. Somewhere inside she knew that the way she'd reacted was extremely childish but...she couldn't really help it. All of this was so new to her.

_Beardless._

_Hobbit-ish._

She didn't understand the beardless part, but the intent was clear. She didn't fit in, didn't belong. Mizimel felt heartbroken the more she thought of it, and a fresh wave of tears erupted from her eyes. She never thought it'd hurt so much, being disapproved of by Thorin. She'd been instinctively trying to gain his approval, his respect, but all for naught. Her upbringing was too different, she was unrecoverable. The thought of it stung her heart.

"Mizimel?" The voice made her whirl around, her swollen, red eyes wide in surprise. Fili was standing behind her, his own eyes filled with sympathy. But she could only see pity in them and abruptly sadness turned to anger, her face turning to stone as she looked at him. What would Fili, prince and heir to Thorin Oakenshield, understand about what she was going through? He'd been born and bred to be the pinnacle of all dwarves, a paragon of his people before he ascended to the throne when his uncle gave up the mantle or died. He'd always fit in with his people even during the hard times.

"What do you want?" She croaked. She wanted to wince; her voice was rough from the time she'd spent crying. Fili frowned at her tone and fidgeted with nervousness, his eyes were filled with worry still but he could sense her unease and didn't go to her.

"I was worried," he admitted, "you were gone for a while and no one knew where you were."

"Leave me be." She whispered, turning away from him, wiping at her face as she tried to stop another wave of tears. "I'm sure your uncle wouldn't want you wasting time with me."

Fili let out an indignant sound as he moved forward and sat beside her on the bench. She looked at him in surprise but he held her gaze and firmly said, "Please, Mizimel, not one moment with you is a waste."

She blushed heavily and tried to fight the warm feeling in her chest but failed. Fili's expression was sincere and she could feel that his words were genuine. His eyes were the same stunning blue as his uncle's but they were less cold, more inviting. A dark blue enclosed the icey blue inside, flecked with black and they were warm. Captivating. She couldn't look away.

"I wish...your uncle felt the same way, Fili. But, as he said, I'm a foolish, hobbit-ish woman." She left the beardless part out, she didn't understand it and apparently it was an insult and she didn't want to let Fili to know. Mizimel never knew why, but with Fili she always felt so embarrassed. Said dwarf gave an ugly snort, his face one of displeasure and she looked at it with wonder. Was he mad at what his uncle had said? Maybe, it wasn't true?

"My uncle can be very cranky and says cruel things as though they won't matter later; you will have to forgive him, he isn't a bad person, and he usually regrets what he says after the fact."

"That doesn't change that he said them." Mizimel said softly and Fili nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't, but he rarely means what he says. You'll see, he will likely come to apologize to you shortly." Fili patted her hand and she was suddenly reminded that they had practically been holding hands ever since he came to sit on the bench. Mizimel blushed heavily once again and she knew that Fili could see it even with her dark skin and the darkness around them. She could tell that he knew because his smile was both smug and wry at the same time, somehow. She sniffed primly and sat straighter but couldn't quite bring herself to take her hand from his. She hadn't realized how much she craved contact after crying for so long.

Fili understood and they sat in comfortable silence, hand in hand, looking around at the beautiful valley surrounding them.

"Do you suppose we should go back?" Mizimel asked quietly. She didn't really want to move, didn't want to face Thorin after what had happened. But that was cowardly, and not even a Baggins backed down from an insult like what she'd received. Fili turned to look at her with a lazy sort of smile and she found herself blushing again. The Durin's were a very handsome family; even Kili, though she viewed him like a little brother, was extremely handsome in his own right.

"We probably should, my lady aunt." He joked and she quietly laughed. Without detaching his hand from hers, he stood up and she was forced to stand up with him. They stood for a few moments, neither wanting to let go but also realizing what it might look like to the elves and the company even though it wasn't like that.

Or...was it?

Mizimel coughed at the thought and carefully took her hand from his, "May I take your arm?"

"Of course." Fili extended his arm and she put her hand around the crook of his elbow. This was more appropriate, it didn't suggest anything. Just a dwarf helping his 'aunt' around halls. The going was slow because she had hurt her feet again when she ran away from Thorin. It had been a childish move, telling the king in exile to shut up before running away. Still, the pain in her feet were a good enough consequence, so she was hoping no one felt the need to lecture her about it.

With Bilbo no doubt worrying about her, she doubted she'd get out a lecture.

"I found her." Fili announced cheerily as they walked into the section the elves had set aside for the dwarf company. Bilbo, who had obviously been pacing, turned to them with a stern brow and his foot began to tap against the ground angrily. Mizimel gave him a weak smile and when he saw her red eyes and clear signs of crying he went from angry to worried. Bofur and Ori stood and went to her, asking her if she were alright. Mizimel began to feel anxious again, looking toward the ground. Sensing her discomfort, Fili lead her away from them and let her sit down next to her nephew who immediately began to fuss over - once again - like a mother hen. The familiarity of it began to lift her spirits even more than Fili had and she managed to give him a true smile.

"What is it? Why were you crying? Are your feet hurting you? Should I get Lord Elrond? I-"

"Bilbo, hush. I'm just fine." She said calmly, reaching out to take his hand. She patted it and he calmed down a little but he still looked conflicted. He probably wanted to run and find Lord Elrond anyway, but Mizimel didn't need it. Her feet hurt, but nothing had begun to bleed again and she knew she'd be alright.

"Let's cheer her up, eh?" Bofur hollered, his dark eyes glinting with mirth, and she found herself smiling just at the sound of his voice. He had the special ability to make people around him happy, and she was no exception. Bofur and a few of the other dwarves began to sing and play instruments, and the words and song along made her feel even better. Mizimel couldn't dance with them because of her injuries, but she was touched that they were trying to help her, and it made her hope that they didn't feel as Thorin did.

The dwarf king was sitting in the hall nearby, listening to the festive music and her twinkling laughs and he sighed tiredly, closing his eyes. He _did_ feel guilty about what he'd said; it wasn't really her fault and she hadn't deserved his rough words but he wasn't going to apologize yet. He had to get the company out of this valley and back onto the road. Now that they had a deadline, everything was much more urgent, and unfortunately if that meant leaving her behind then he would do so.

He'd pay her back one day, once they'd reclaimed Erebor, but for now he had to think for more than one dwarrowdam. He had an entire people and mountain to save. One week later, and during the early morning hours the company slipped away, leaving a mostly healed, peacefully sleeping Mizimel behind.

A few hours later and he was beginning to regret it. His nephews were dull and unhappy, Bofur seemed glum, and it was clear most were thinking about the dwarf lass they'd left behind with the elves. Well, regret it wasn't the right phrase. He didn't regret his choice but he was surely regretting what it was doing to his company. The burglar especially seemed rather put out, strictly ignoring that Thorin existed and only deigning to respond to those like Bofur, Bombur, or occasionally Nori. When they stopped for a brief break hours after they'd left the valley, Fili walked over to where his uncle sat with a stoic look on his face. Thorin knew what that look meant and turned to face his nephew.

"What is on your mind, Fili?"

"We shouldn't have left her behind, uncle. She is a part of the company, and we can't just abandon them."

"Fili, one day you will understand. I have more than a few dwarves that I must consider, and while she is important and undoubtedly one of us she would do nothing but slow us down and we can't afford that. We must reach the mountain before Durin's day or this entire journey will have been for naught."

"She is strong, she is steadfast and unmoving just as the mountain."

Thorin fought the urge to roll his eyes when his nephew threw his own words back at him.

"She wasn't a burden before, she cooked and sewed and was quickly learning under Dwalin's teaching."

Fili's heart was in the right place, but Thorin wasn't swayed. He gave his nephew a hard look, one that the entire company knew and Fili looked down with a frown knowing the discussion was over.  
"We will come back for her, Fili. Once we have won back the mountain and made it safe, we will be reunited."

Thorin genuinely hoped so, at least.

* * *

**Hey, everyone. It's been a while. Frankly, it was a struggle to decide if I even wanted to continue. I kept my story on a cute little flash drive, and written the entire story out.**

**Then, that cute little flash drive took a spin in my washer and it wiped it all out. I lost my muse entirely but at the nudging of my friends and significant other, I've returned. The updated won't be as frequent as I'd planned because I'm re-writing the whole story.**

**And this time, it isn't on some thing that can be washed and destroyed, so hopefully it goes smoother this time. Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. Mephistominion, out.**


	8. Chapter 8: A Hobbit-ish Woman

Thorin was extremely glad that Mizimel wasn't with them when they were forced further into Goblin Town. He had heard of and seen the consequences of the horrors that women often faced at the hands of the vile creatures that surrounded them, and though her absence was harder than he thought it would be, he couldn't help but thank Mahal that she'd been left behind in those moments.

"What have we here, eh? Spies, thieves, _assassins_!?"

"Dwarves, your benevolence."

"Dwarves?"

"We found them on the front porch."

"Well, don't just stand there! Search them, every crack, every crevice!"

The dwarves were groped and searched. Kili batted their hands away and tried to keep them off of him. It settled down again and his eyes went back to the king goblin. His grungy teeth coupled with the goiter beard, slimy skin, and boils made him about the ugliest thing Kili had ever seen. Even the trolls were preferable to the sight this massive goblin beast in front of them. Fili and Kili both fought back as the hoard of goblins around them pawed and tore at their clothes, searching for weapons and valuables that the dwarves might have had on their person. Fili could only hope and pray that none of the sickening creatures would find the key their uncle had; it was their only way into the mountain. Of course, almost as soon as he'd thought that, one particularly long fingered, grabby goblin had reached into his uncle's tunic and tossed the key onto the pile of their things which was quickly building nearby. The dwarves, as a whole, tried not to show any outward panic when that happened.

"What are you dwarves doing in these parts?"

His question was met with a round of glares and blank looks.

"Hm, very well. If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler, bring out the Bone-Breaker." His long claw pointed directly at Ori who gave a wide-eyed, horrified look. "Start with the youngest."

"Wait!"

When Thorin had to step forward and reveal himself to save Ori from being tortured Fili knew things were going to get even worse for them.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Oh! But I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you...nobody, really." It took all of his willpower not to lunge and attack the goblin king as he insulted his uncle and belittled him. The disgusting creature had _no right_-!

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head, hehe, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A pale orc astride a white warg."

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago."

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The goblin king turned to a malformed little creature in some sort of harness, scribbling down what could only have been the black speech. "Send word to the pale orc. Tell him I have found his prize."

Thorin could feel a sense of panic welling up in him at the thought of the Defiler, alive and coming for him and his nephews. The torture devices were on their way toward them, carried on the backs of countless goblins all practically giddy at the thought of harming the company. Of course, the goblin's singing alone could probably have been counted as torture as he sang vividly about the awful things they'd do to them. Fili couldn't see any end in sight when suddenly there was a huge commotion. His uncle's newest blade, one that had been given to him by Lord Elrond of Rivendell after they found it in the troll hoard, was partially out of its scabbard and had been tossed away from the goblin that had found it. All of them seemed absolutely terrified by it.

"I know that sword! It is the goblin-cleaver. The biter-" The goblins were in a frenzy, clawing and slashing at them and whipping them. Thorin had been separated from them and he tried valiantly to beat them off as they dragged him closer to the goblin king. "The blade that sliced a thousand necks! Thrash them, beat them, kill them! Kill them all."

Thorin was practically being laid out, his neck and torso exposed to the rising blade of an angry goblin.

"_Cut off his head!_"

"_No!_"

A great burst of blinding, white light filled the air. Everything went silent and the goblins and dwarves were blasted onto their backs by the sheer force of it. After a few pregnant pauses, the dwarves and goblins began to lift their heads and regan their senses.

"Take up arms." The gruff, deep voice was impossible to misplace and all the dwarves perked up at the sound. The gray wizard stared at them gravely, his sword and staff in hand, ready to battle. Beside him stood an alarmingly familiar dwarrowdam whose face was as thunderous and angry as it was beautiful. Her bright green eyes shone dangerously and she held a menacing bardiche in her hands. The sight of her had his heart soaring.

"Fight." Gandalf commanded them.

"Fight!" Mizimel repeated in a loud bellow. Then everything seemed to explode at once. The dwarves scrambled for their weapons and the goblins were beginning to realize what was happening. There was screeching and howling and they began to attack. They rushed at Gandalf and Mizimel. Gandalf would crack his staff across their heads or bodies to daze them before slicing his sword through them smoothly. Mizimel, however, did not have the technique and simply cleaved whatever her long pollaxe came in contact with. She wasn't as precise but plenty deadly with her long reach and strong arms which enabled her to cut goblins practically in half with each swing.

"He wields the Foehammer, the Beater. Bright as daylight-"

"Someone _shut_ him up!" Mizimel snarled as she beheaded another goblin that had foolishly attempted to lunge at her. The goblin king tried to rush at the other dwarves, seeming to finally have come to his senses enough to stop them. He didn't get very far; he tried to bring his staff down on the dwarves and Thorin deflected it with his superior Orcrist, sending the obese horror off the platform along with a good deal of other goblins.

"Follow me!" Gandalf hollered. "Quick!"

No one wasted another second, dashing after Gandalf as he ran toward what everyone hoped would be an exit. Mizimel fell in line with them and ran right behind Thorin, breathing heavily, her brow scrunched in determination as they ran for their lives.

"What are you doing here?" Fili shouted as they dashed through the makeshift bridges and walk ways, fighting and beheading things as they went. Mizimel looked as though she hadn't heard him, eyes steely and focused ahead as they ran. Fili didn't dwell on it, they were in danger after all. Mizimel stayed right behind Thorin the entire time, and more than one dwarf noticed that she had saved Thorin and his heirs more than once, whether by knocking goblins off of ledges, or throwing goblins into the path of arrows meant for the company, or by completely decapitating orcs with her own axe. She was deadly and much more practiced than any of them remembered, but none complained. They peeled away from the goblins, and they felt a sense of hope as it seemed like they might actually make it. That was cut short as they were crossing yet another rickety bridge, and it exploded from below. The giant goblin appeared, snarling and menacing.

"You thought you could escape me?" He swung his staff down upon Gandalf and swiped it at him, causing the wizard to stumble back. "What are you going to do now, _wizard_?"

Gandalf seemed to grimace before he pushed himself back up and shoved his twisted staff directly into the goblin's eye, causing the great beast to howl and drop his weapon. Fili watched in shock as the wizard then slashed his blade across the goblin's swollen belly, making the deformed creature scream in pain and drop to his knees. There was a pause, the goblin seemed to be in shock.

"...that'll do it."

Gandalf sneered and swung his shining blade, scoring the great goblin's neck clean open. It choked before it finally died. Fili and Kili would have started cheering if not for the shuddering that began to happen beneath him. Everyone knew that goblins weren't the best of builders. Apparently having suffered too much stress, the platform beneath them gave way and then they were falling, falling, falling...

* * *

"Mizimel!" Kili and Fili gasped out as they ran down the hill. She seemed to stumble occasionally and wince, and it dawned on them that she was still healing from her previous wounds. But she'd still come after them, still saved them and Thorin especially. Kili grinned at her as they slowed down when they began to reach the others.

"Mizimel, I'm so relieved to see you-" He had put a hand on her arm but stopped talking and froze when she yanked her arm away from him. Her glare was full of hurt and betrayal, her face was cold and closed off and the youngest Durins felt a great sense of loss. Any trust that had been earned was lost, they could sense that now.

"Bifur, Bofur...that makes 10. And - ah! Fili, Kili, Mizimel. That makes 13. Then, Bombur, at fourteen…" Gandalf looked around. "Where's Bilbo?"

"Bilbo?"

"Where is our hobbit?" Gandalf sounded slightly panicked at that point too. A few of the dwarves looked around, especially Fili and Kili. Others just looked irritated.

Gloin growled from somewhere behind her, "Curse that halfling! Now he's lost? I thought he was with Dori!"

"Well don't blame me!" Dori complained, letting out a huff of air. Gandalf looked at him with growing agitation.

"Where did you last see him?"

Nori pointed and spoke up from the back, "I think I saw him slip away when they first collared us." He looked slightly worried.

"Then what happened, exactly? Tell me!" Gandalf's voice was rising and Thorin chose that moment to step forward and talk.

"I'll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it!" His voice was accusing and full of contempt, and he looked over the rest of the company as he spoke. "He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and warmth hearth since first he stepped out his door."

"Mizimel!" The rest of the company seemed to have forgotten that she was there. Fili had grabbed her arm as she walked back toward the mountain they'd just exited. She was limping and stoic, her grip on her weapon tight and she proceeded as though she hadn't heard Fili at all. Thorin faltered with his words, everyone looking at her with confusion. Fili seemed desperate as he grabbed at her and continued, "Stop! Mizimel, please, what are you doing?"

She yanked her arm from the young prince's grasp much like she had with Kili earlier, still trying to make her way to the caves, and they could see that she was shaking. And she was crying. "Mizimel Took, you stop this nonsense at once." Gandalf looked concerned and she turned to look at him when he spoke. She looked so lost, so young, green eyes shining with tears.

"Nonsense? Gandalf, I will not leave him to his fate, even if none of you lot seem to care."

There was a collective groan.

"That's not true-"

"Oh, lass, don't-"

"_Shazara!_" She barked, cutting across their overlapping voices and silencing them. Her gaze turned hard and tears streamed freely from her eyes. Her voice was rough and soft. "Don't you pretend with me. I have eyes and ears, I have more than half a brain. I can see how you treat him, I can hear what you say about him and I know that you don't care for or respect him. Even now, the fact that he might be mutilated and dead at the hands of those foul _things_ seems like nothing but an inconvenience to you. But I..I just can't leave him behind, in the dark, or - or..." Her voice died as her emotions mounted and she started to let out odd little hiccups as she cried. "I know how you think of me Thorin, and how you think of him. But I beg of you, he's the only family I've got, now. Just let me go!"

There was a pregnant silence as they processed her words and Thorin's face was solemn but unyielding.

"Stand down, Mizimel." Thorin commanded gruffly, stepping in front of her and meeting her gaze with a hard one of his own. "You must face facts, you cannot throw your life away."

The air seemed to drop, and Mizimel's expression grew even wilder. Mourning and sadness gave way into sheer fury. She looked almost feral in the dying light.

"Throw my life away?" Her voice was deadly and starting to rise, and some of the dwarves edged away from her but Thorin held strong. "That hobbit is my true family. He ensured that I wasn't turned out on the street when his parents died. He has fed and clothed me until I could help pay for my own way, he helped to teach me how to read and be kind and tend to growing things. Bilbo never doubted me," she was shouting now, red in the face, her face twisted into a fierce snarl as her temper began to break, "Bilbo never insulted others that weren't like him. And he _certainly_ didn't abandon me like a used handkerchief when I was no longer convenient for him!"

Thorin looked as though she'd slapped him across the face. "I will not tolerate-"

Mizimel actually roared in Thorin's face, veins popping in her neck and her eyes looking as though they were about to spew fire any moment. "_I don't give a rats's arse what you will and won't tolerate, oh King Under the Bloody Mountain!_ You will listen to me. You called me a beardless, Hobbit-ish woman. But if being kind, and loyal, and patient, and above all giving even when those who you've willingly joined on a suicide mission treat you like orc spit then I am _glad_ to be a Hobbit!"

Thorin looked absolutely stunned at her words and you could have heard a needle drop on onto the ground around them. Fili and Kili's mouths were wide open, Ori was hiding behind his brothers and Dwalin looked completely unwilling to even come near her. Thorin couldn't speak. Dis's fury was one of cold resentment and one where you felt like she might slit your throat in your sleep. Mizimel's was one where she might just tear you to shreds where you stood. Mizimel certainly had Hobbit-ish qualities about her, but her anger was pure Dwarvish, through and through. He cleared his throat.

"Mizimel, we will not be seeing your hobbit again. He is long gone."

"No, he isn't."

It was as though she did a complete 180. The anger melted from her face replaced with something akin to a blind man seeing the sun for the first time and whirled around. Mizimel grinned and let out a relieved cry, flinging herself at Bilbo and wrapping him up in her arms before crying into his shoulder. "Oh, Valar preserve me, never do that to me again you silly, ridiculous Baggins!"

She wasn't the only one relieved; even if some of them had problems with Bilbo, they were relieved he was alive - and very happy that her temper was no longer a danger to their lives.

"Bilbo! We'd almost given you up." Kili chuckled, his smiling blinding.

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" Fili wondered aloud.

Dwalin almost looked approving. "How, indeed."

There was a pause. Bilbo looked at them nervously, chuckling as he brought his hands to his pockets. Mizimel was so happy to see him that she didn't notice as he slipped something into said pockets, trying to hide what he had found from the rest of them.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back!"

Thorin wasn't at all satisfied. "It matters. I want to know. Why did you come back?"

Mizimel glared at him but softened her gaze when Bilbo rested his hand on arm. She knew he could feel her distress and was trying to calm her down.

"Look, I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And our garden. See, that's where we belong," he motioned to Mizimel and himself and she let herself smile at the memory of their beloved smial, "That's home. And that's why I came back, 'cause...you don't have one, a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back, if I can."

Mizimel could feel her heart swelling with pride at his wonderful words. He was so wise and kind that she felt like weeping with joy. She knew that Belladonna and Bungo would have been so proud.

"Oh, my dear, dear Bilbo." She gathered him up into another hug, squeezing him tight and heard him choke out a weak 'help, crushing me' before she let him go. Some of the dwarves chuckled and she could tell that he had taken a big step forward in getting their collective approval. She, however, had probably taken about fifteen steps back after screaming in their king's face like a banshee. As they all looked at Bilbo with new eyes, her ears picked up on something. There was a faint...something, in the air. Like a voice that carried in the wind and she tilted her head to listen.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, turning her head toward the slope of the mountain. The rest of the company turned with her just as the first howls began to pierce the air.

"Out of the frying pan…"

"And into the fire. Run!"

Mizimel felt like crying again, and not in a good way. This was never going to end.

* * *

The moon shone down on them, and the night sky was marred by a harsh, flicking red light across the horizon of twinkling stars. The fire was hot, licking across the dry grass and foliage down below, hungry and approaching slowly but surely. She was clutching the trunk of the tree which held all of the dwarves as fear coursed her far greater than anything she'd felt. She could have laughed at the terror she felt when she'd faced the trolls. At least she'd had a chance to win. Facing this many orcs and wargs, which nothing but a sheer drop beneath them that would result in nothing but death...it really seemed like there was no hope. What could save them now?

"Mizimel!" Bilbo grunted as he pulled himself up onto the tree trunk, no longer dangling in the air like many of the other dwarves. She didn't even look at him, eyes wide, silent as she watched the orcs cackling and sneering at the dwarves' sure deaths. "Mizimel, I…"

Azog the Defiler was grinning with sick satisfaction and the hatred that was emanating from Thorin was nothing less than soul consuming. It made sense, the evil creature had caused the death of their previous king and Thorin's grandfather. Mizimel couldn't have blamed him for the hatred she saw in him; what she _did_ blame him for was what he did next.

He stood slowly, a fierce look on his face, dark hair flowing almost like water, Orcrist extended out to his side. An odd sort of horror dawned on her and she reached out for him, her throat constricting and her heart leaping out of her chest.

"Thorin, _no!_"

He charged anyway and she watched with tears in her eyes as he did. His shield was raised valiantly, his sword ready to end his foe, but Azog was on a _warg_, and surrounded by his followers. Was he racing out just to die fighting? Mizimel felt as though her world was crumbling again and she started to struggle into a standing position despite the precarious situation she was in. They saw when he got knocked down, and when the white warg began to chew on him like a piece of leftover bone, she couldn't stand for it any longer.

"Come on." She barked out to Bilbo, who was also standing now and looking about as angry as she was. Her feet hurt and she was sure that they might have been rubbed raw again after having run through the caves but all of that seemed so insignificant when her king lay close to death. He was stubborn and undoubtedly an idiot, but he deserved to live. She could feel the truth of that singing in her blood.

"Come!"

* * *

Thorin's eyes were blurry and his head pounded. His chest felt like it had been crushed and it was hard to breathe. He could see it, though - the lifted knife, the dark grin on the orc fiend's face as he was about to bring it down on him. And then there was a blur of light, curly hair and a high pitched yell, and Thorin was amazed to see the hobbit bear down on the orc so fiercely before stabbing the foul being through the chest with his glowing blade. Then he stood in front of the wounded dwarf, clumsily but bravely swinging his letter opener about like that would deter the vicious beings in front of them. Thorin was struggling to keep conscious.

"Thorin!" Her voice so full of worry still sounded like bells, and he could dimly see her burying her axe in the side of an oncoming warg, effectively cutting off the hound in its pursuit of him. She rushed to him, her hand fluttering over his chest as though she were afraid that merely touching him would cause him to expire. There were shouts of battle and war cries that were all too familiar. The company fought to protect him, and Mizimel stood over him. "Oh, y-you...you better not die on me, you moronic dwarf!" She sounded like she was crying, and they were in such a dangerous situation but she still managed to nag him.

Thorin almost preferred it when she was a timid, unsure little thing that listened to everything they said and did without question. But what she was becoming...it was all her, and Thorin smiled dimly. Moments later, he found that he couldn't keep awake anymore and went unconscious with her sweet voice calling his name in panic.

* * *

Bilbo watched as the fight wore on. He tried his best to keep up and fight alongside them, he really did. But after getting knocked into a tree by that ugly, white beast Azog sat on top of fighting became quite the chore. The wind was knocked straight from his chest and he coughed as he stood, hand tight on his small sword. The dwarves were doing damage but still heavily outnumbered. Mizimel stood near Thorin with a fierce look on her face, brandishing the pollaxe she had with clumsy but deadly swings. Azog was coming for her, a savage determination on his scarred face. Bilbo wanted to yell a warning but his lungs still couldn't suck in much air and he watched as Mizimel met the pale orc in battle.

It was painful to watch, on a number of levels. Knowing that his precious Mizimel was fighting against one of the deadliest orcs in Middle Earth was hard enough, but watching them Bilbo could tell that they were not evenly matched. Not even close. Azog was intensely strong and overpowered her with every swing of his weapon. She was trying to keep him at bay but it wasn't working very well. The towering orc almost easily swat her axe away and delivered a bruising kick to her side. She managed to stay on her feet but it was clear that she was dazed and very hurt. Azog sneered when he backhanded her across the face, causing her to fly to the ground with a shout of pain, blood flying from the new cut he'd opened across her cheek.

"_**You protect Oakenshield. You care about him, and I know he cares for you. I will make him and all his filthy line watch as I cleave your head from your body, dwarf bitch**_."

The Black Speech was lost on both Mizimel and Bilbo but a threat in any language can be pretty easy to figure out. She wasn't really moving, moaning and crawling away from him as she clutched her bruised torso. Bilbo was finding his voice again and his panic was causing the other dwarves to look his way and therefor see the predicament their only female member was in. But there was screeching and wings and flying and there was things happening that none of them could comprehend, and no one could to her aid. Bilbo watched as Azog lifted his arm blade...only to have Mizimel spring into action and slam Thorin's oak shield across the orc's face with all her strength, causing him to stumble back away from her and Thorin.

"Eat that, you disgusting, white bastard!" She shouted. Azog roared in anger but it was lost as an eagle suddenly descended and forced him to take cover. Bilbo soon felt claws wrapping around him and he was suddenly airborne, screaming in fright as the ground disappeared beneath him. The flying evened out, and eventually he stopped screaming but the panic didn't leave him. It wouldn't leave him until he found Mizimel and Thorin and made absolutely sure they were okay.

* * *

**Heyyy, look at that, another chapter up and running. Let me know if you find any mistakes. I'll make sure to get them fixed ASAP. Let me know what you guys think. Let me just say that every time someone reviews, I just about cry because it means that this thing is being read and that really helps my muse.**

**Also, I had decided who she was going to end up with but after losing all of the story that I'd written, I've decided to give another person a try. Let me know who you'd prefer her to be with? Fili, Thorin, or Bofur...or no one? Still those options up for the potential love interest (or lack thereof lol). I've read previous requests and taken them into account, of course.**

**Seriously, I love you guys and thanks for those who've stuck with me. *xoxo Zyenna and also Rohirrim Girl 2187 for leaving a review***

**-Mephistminion out**


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